


Are You Not Entertained ?

by MyrJuhl



Category: Alexander (2004), Gladiator (2000), Lord of the Rings (2001)
Genre: Abuse, Adult Content, Angst, Auction, Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Period Piece, Sexual Coercion, Slavery, antiquity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrJuhl/pseuds/MyrJuhl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of aiding Emperor Marcus Aurelius expanding the Roman Empire the retired Spaniard born general Maximus Decimus Meridius is heading for his home in Tuscany, Italy. In his possession are three freshly bought slaves. On the sideline, a young Macedonian Elf struggles to come to terms with his identity in the middle of war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These events never happened. This fic is for entertainment purposes only, not profit. I, the author, make no claim through this work as to the fictional characters/ actual lives/ preferences/ activities of the people mentioned herein. 
> 
> Beta: The amazing Ladyhawk, and the splendid Inwë Saralondé. Original chapters 1-4 Raonaid416.
> 
> Of course, the Elves' Sindarin, Maximus' Spanish-Italian, and Hephaestion's Greek are incompatible but forget that please. They do understand each other.  
> Vocabulary: Ada = father - Nana = mother - Ion = son - Agora = a market - Lembas = honey flavoured bread.  
> Definition of the difference in High Elven and Grey Elven: "The Elves back in the Elder Days divided themselves into two main branches. The West-Elves (The Eldar) and the East-Elves (The Silvan). East-Elves were mostly of Mirkwood or Lórien heritage. They spoke Grey-Elven (Sindarin). The West-Elves spoke High Elven (Quenya). Two different languages for two different people who once were the same." (Quote from ROTK)

IMLADRIS, MIDDLE EARTH

Coming home from bow practise one afternoon, Hîst-Ethir gaily called for his Nana, hoping she would have baked cookies for his afternoon tea, which in reality was heated sweet down watered wine. Approaching the kitchen, he looked around curiously, but she wasn't there, and no delicious smells indicated that the desired cookies had been baked. "Nana?" Hîst-Ethir turned and went back into the hall and stepped outside in the courtyard. He went to the smithy in search for his father. As soon as he reached the building, he heard agitated voices. His Nana and Ada were having a quarrel. Upset he approached his parents, but soon he realised something was in the built up. 

When Eorthawen, a stunning brunette native of Rivendell, realised that her son stood gaping nervously at them, she went to him. "My dear Hethir. Fear not." Looking back at her husband, the couple shared a few mental thoughts as she took the young boy back into the house.

Hîst-Ethir Mirdanion was only 55 years old; a young teenager compared to human boys. He was clever and showed promising skills in combat and martial arts training as well as contact exercises. War was sneaking up upon the Elven Realms as well as of those of Humans and Dwarves. The huge lands to the west were imperializing with European greed and parts of Middle Earth were already lost to the Romans who showed no signs of stopping until they had conquered everything, including their people who were already suffering being sold as slaves. The Imperial army had warfare technology outdoing any defence mechanism Middle Earth could ever respond with. The outcome was sadly predictable but the resistance still went on. 

Hîst-Ethir's Ada, Mirdan, had gained a nice profit from war, but now the time had come where his disloyalty to Imladris and Lord Elrond had been discovered, and Mirdan was blackmailed to continue selling his weapons to the enemy. To prevent Mirdan's Silvan family name from being scandalized publicly in Imladris, the little family was now forced to flee during the night.

"But where are we going?" Hîst-Ethir asked. Sadly, he understood that this meant he had to leave his friends and family behind. 

His Nana smiled. "Your Ada has friends in a place called Greece. That is where we are going, but you must be brave now, ion. It will take months before we get there."

"But we are at war. We should fight."

Reluctantly, his Nana chose her words with care. "Ai - that we are, and it will require an extra amount of courage to endure the distance. But we cannot stay put any longer. All will be well. You will see, Hethir," Eorthawen said, trying to convince herself more than her son, but her heart bled having to leave Rivendell where she had lived the last 1,200 years as an accomplished seamstress along with her Sindarin spouse. 

Packed only with the items they could not part from, the three Elves began their long journey. Eorthawen sat on the horse, but Hîst-Ethir and his Ada were both on foot. They had plenty of values brought with them and as soon as possible, Mirdan would purchase another horse to carry him and his son. 

Travelling with other fugitives, Mirdan's family managed to slip out of Middle Earth unnoticed disguising themselves as regular humans, covering their pointy Elven ears. Hîst-Ethir was told with much emphasize never to dilute to anyone that he was Elvish and where he came from. It would be dangerous and their family would be split forcefully if any of them ever revealed what they really were, and sold as slaves at the next convenient slave market. The youth was terrified at the risk of being recognised, so naturally, he took much care in always done his long, auburn brown hair to cover his treacherous ears.

 

ATHENS, GREECE

Finally, the Elves' dangerous journey ended unharmed in Athens, Greece. Not many knew that Elves could live for millennias because they were mostly bought as pleasure slaves and the obvious rapes they endured in their ignorant owner's care, left them to wither within a short amount of time. These were information, Mirdan had gathered from his trade source from Athens. The news had shocked him to the core how Elves were looked upon by humans; bought as high quality merchandise because the beautiful creatures lasted so briefly. Nothing but sport to their owner. 

Mirdan's Athenian connection, the merchant Mitheles, granted them shelter for a few months, until they could buy a house of their own. The Sindarin weapons smith would not be able to obtain the special metals used for Elvish swords, but he would still be able to make magnificent weapons to sell in Athens using the merchant's facilities. No newcomer would ever be allowed to open his own workshop. The competition amongst weapons smiths was fierce and ruthless. Eorthawen would be able to sell her flawless dresses through Mitheles.

Mitheles had an eleven-year-old son by the name of Amyntor. Though the age difference was considerable between him and Hîst-Ethir, the youths had become best friends practically on day one. Hîst-Ethir joined Amyntor in all his activities at school, gymnasium, academy training, and delightfully, in all the trouble they could get their hands on. Amyntor was awed by Hîst-Ethir's many impressive skills. That Hîst-Ethir would live forever, unless other circumstantial interferences would cause his death, was hard for Amyntor to comprehend, but it was an honour to keep his friend's real Elvish identity a secret to their school friends. He didn't want to lose his best friend due to careless gossip. In a way, Amyntor found it intriguing that in a few years, he would be a mature young man, whereas Hîst-Ethir wouldn't even be considered a grown up by his parents for at least another thirty years. 

As careful as Mitheles' entire household were to protect their guests from dangers outside the brick wall surrounding the yard, nothing could prepare them for the unexpected accident that happened to Eorthawen when she fell down a ladder and tragically broke her neck. She died instantly, and when the news was brought to Mirdan, he succumbed into grief so fast that when Hîst-Ethir came home from practise his father was already withered beyond reach. The young Elf was shattered and Mitheles could only watch helplessly as he understood what was going to happen. Elves couldn't survive losing their kin. Resolutely, he decided to try and prevent Hîst-Ethir from dying, too. He was much too young to leave this world already. There were thousands of things the young Elf still had to learn about simply being an Elf, but soon, he would have no one to bring him up but Mitheles and his family. They knew nothing about being an Elf, only the general knowledge, but of course, Hîst-Ethir knew those already. The merchant had no other choice but to at least teach the youth how to be a human. 

When Mirdan died, Mitheles took Hîst-Ethir and Amyntor for a trip to see the academy in Pella. Terms were good between Athens and Macedonia, who grew strong these years under King Amyntas' reign. His son Philip were to be his successor, eventually, and Mitheles imagined both Amyntor and Hîst-Ethir would serve these kings all in due time when they came of age, respectively. 

Hîst-Ethir knew why he was brought along on this journey with the merchant. He wasn't interested in getting over his sadness; nevertheless, his withering had been prevented in time and he survived his grieving.

*~.:.~* 

The years went on. Hîst-Ethir never forgot his Elven past, the small significant details that made him different from humans, but still his life was that of a Greek youth, although he hadn't stopped being careful. Elves were more popular at slave markets than ever because they were rarely seen, as long as Middle Earth was still ravished by the Romans. Hîst-Ethir wanted revenge, but wisely kept his feelings and opinions to himself. Mitheles had died long ago and with him the secret why Hîst-Ethir's family had fled in the first place. The merchant's death meant that even though Amyntor now was a trusted general in the Macedonian army, at the age of 43, he still hadn't gotten any children and it didn't seem likely that he ever would. He had never spoken to anyone of his childless marriage, and so, along with his wife and Hîst-Ethir, the three of them decided that if Hîst-Ethir were to be adopted by them, he would inherit everything after their death. 

It also was over long due for Hîst-Ethir to seek a professional military career. Still living in Mitheles' mercantile, he was beyond qualified and needed to put his skills into action. However, his Elven name was dangerous and too obvious, and so he was renamed Hephaestion Amyntoros when the adoption became effectuated. At the same time, Hephaestion would finally be declared legal of age; a day he had yearned for for decades, but mentally hadn't been ready for until recently in spite of growing up along side Amyntor all these years - despite of mastering the many martial skills to perfection. Hephaestion's calm nature gifted him the ability to handle complicated logistics, and even diplomatic characteristics had always been a part of the young Elf's nature. Amyntor had won many discussions using his friend's wise judgement. Hoping all this would benefit Hephaestion, Amyntor would proudly introduce him to Philips' Macedonian court, although the king was bedridden. However, he was certain that the regent, Attalus, would be supported greatly by Hephaestion's outstanding skills. The Macedonian army needed someone like Hephaestion now.

The young Elf was radiating a light making his beauty simply stunning. Clear blue eyes lay deep in his pale face, adorned by lustrous, dark hair. His body didn't reveal the strength that lay underneath the long, slender limbs, and he took care not to show off how superior he was compared to his opponents at the Athenian academy. Amyntor had forgotten more or less of these matters, except that he did what he could to protect him, nowadays not just because of his Elven heritage but also because he was attracting lovers of both sexes. Amyntor found it hard to relate to Hephaestion as an adult, but he had to accept the fact that Hephaestion was no longer a child but a young man; eager for all that life had to offer. 

 

ATHENS, GREECE

 

"Kiss me some more." 

Hephaestion smiled at his lover, who willingly did as the beautiful Athenian above him asked. When he teasingly raked a nail across Hephaestion, the young Elf hissed. 

"Liked that?"

Hephaestion grabbed his hair and they kissed short and hard. "Got to go. My journey won't happen all by itself."

"Are you packed yet? I could help you, and make sure to find keep your bed warm. You shouldn't be alone, sir."

Feeling an eager hand caressing his buttock, Hephaestion smiled. "No, you can't help and yes, I did that yesterday. Now, let go of my arse. My bed partners elsewhere are my own dealings." Getting off the bed, he stood looking at the young man lying there. He wasn't exactly going to miss him. It was mostly the other way round. Hephaestion had no one he was in love with. Being so young, he wasn't looking for marriage, but just took pleasure in the things life had to offer. Enjoying the young man last night was a farewell gift to himself, as he would have to dedicate all his time in the new position at the Macedonian court and not indulge in so much frolicking. 

"May the gods protect you, Hephaestion," the lover whispered under his breath, but Hephaestion heard him loud and clear, nevertheless; his Elvish hearing senses never betrayed him. Remembering to respond to being called Hephaestion was still very new after having been called Hîst-Ethir for 87 years, but considering how long Hephaestion was probably going to live, in a short amount of time his Greek name would feel perfectly natural. He rather liked the name, which was very helpful.

Hephaestion chose to ignore the good wishes, and went to get dressed. Leaving the barracks after breakfast, he found his horse ready like requested. He was invited to come to Pella by King Philippos through his 'father' and best friend Amyntor - although the king had probably not much to do about that, as he was still weak after a recent assassination attempt. Not yet cable of reigning the empire himself, Philippos had appointed Attalus, the uncle of his young queen, Eurydice, as regent. It was time for Hephaestion to prove himself. 

*~.:.~*

 

ROME, ITALY,  
SEPTEMBER

General Maximus closed the door to Caesar Marcus Aurelius' private chambers. In his hand, he held a letter relieving him of all duties concerning the Empire. He was free to go home and live peacefully for the rest of his life. The Spaniard had earned a substantial amount of money throughout the years spent leading the Roman Emperor's troops through Europe, often conquering nations he wouldn't have dreamed existed. They had conquered most of Northern Europe, but failed to completely subdue the aggressive Berserkers. However, Rome had now for decades focused on maintaining control of the exotic and rich Middle Earth. Not just their natural sources that were a constant cause to fill the Empire's treasury but their people, too, were very popular slaves... especially the Elven races. Maximus hadn't encountered many of the people from these lands; only those speaking Westron and many of these men had gladly offered themselves as mercenaries.

The Roman forces had had easy access to conquer the new land, as Middle-Earth's military development had stagnated after many years of domestic wars. They had had no enemies until Rome decided to make colonies of the many regions. One by one, the likes of Gondor, Imladris, Mirkwood, and Lothlórien had been conquered. Rome was still short of other regions of the enormous colony, but they would enrol them, eventually.

Maximus had had no interest in leading his troops into yet another vast and unpredictable region just for the conquest. He knew how to handle the Barbarians in the North. They were predictable in their rage and aggressiveness. He knew he'd sleep on his cot every night without fail after a day's job well done. However, the general wasn't getting any younger, and therefore he had been wise to retire now at the height of his career.

So now, Maximus was in the possession of a considerable fortune. He had his personal assistant Cicero by his side and he motioned them to leave the palace. The general wondered if he should buy some slaves since he was in Rome anyway. Once he reached his home, the opportunity to buy slaves wouldn't be available for a long time. He imagined his wife and workers had been busy harvesting all autumn and he figured they were tired and could use extra hands around the place. 

They left the palace and watched the busy Romans who filled the streets. The commotion was tiresome and Maximus could hardly wait to begin his journey home. He smiled to Cicero. "Let's go buy some slaves, shall we? The sooner the better." Cicero nodded and took a better grip on the expensive load he was carrying. Pickpockets were everywhere.

Mingling in the crowd, they walked towards one of the most famous slave markets behind Forum Romanum, the Republican Forum of Rome. The variety of slaves always ensured that the customers got what they were looking for. On the way, Cicero bought provisions from the various agoras everywhere. Maximus was in deep thought. Now, he would have a lot of time on his hands. He knew that most of it would be spent running the farm. However, he had encountered so much violence in the course of his military career that the idea of living in peace from now on was something he had to get used to. For some reason that was slightly frightening.

Maximus glanced at a butcher shop on the left hand side and pointed. Dutifully, Cicero went and purchased supplies from the shop. Soon, the two men entered a large magnificent square; noisy, busy, and terrible: Forum Romanum. Maximus wasn't in the mood but the task was just something he had to do. He sighed, allowed himself a private moment, and smiled. His wife Marcellina's exotic features graced his mind, and the cheeky laughter of his son caressed his ear. Shaking the daydreams away, the general concentrated on the task ahead.

The market was full of people busy doing business. Heaps of newly captured slaves were presented and sold in an endless stream today with eager buyers standing practically on their toes to get the best of them. Comments from the crowd were shouted towards the market keeper and the frightened slaves. Maximus leaned against a tree as he viewed the slaves. There were plenty to choose from, but he didn't really see what he felt he was looking for. Sure, he could have bought the first ten pairs of strong arms, but somehow he hesitated. The market closed down in a while. He knew that. The other experienced customers who were still there knew as well. They were waiting, and towards the end, the crowd suddenly silenced in anticipation, including the Spaniard and his trusted assistant.

The market keeper was closing the shop with a smirk. He had saved these slaves for the end. He knew the buyers had waited patiently enough for the surprise he always was capable of delivering. He let them have their discussion for a while before the bidding would take place.

On the stage stepped three creatures of such beauty the likes of which Maximus had ever seen. They moved graciously and in the blinding autumn sun, it seemed like they radiated an inner light. Maximus knew they were the ones he had waited for, but he also knew that everyone else had waited for the same thing. Only...Maximus had the money to out bid every fucker who would try to possess them. The general didn't need much imagination to figure out the price. These slaves wouldn't be sold at the usual worker price. They would be outrageously expensive, and the keeper didn't have to worry about getting his money. The crowd would bid like madmen.

All three slaves had loose-hanging long blond hair. Gracefully, they bowed their heads and refused to meet the gaze of the crowd, staring instead at their chained feet. They were barely dressed, just covered in shredded tunics that revealed little of their sex. Maximus watched the tallest one, and in the same instant, a breeze swept through the square and let the blond curtain reveal a flat chest with the correct curves indicating a male. His face was revealed as well, and the crowd including the Spaniard was stunned. This slave was too handsome for his own good. Maximus gritted his teeth watching the spectacle. By now, he'd figured out that these three slaves were Elvish. 

He hated having to turn to buying labour in this fashion. However, that was the way one obtained unpaid labour. Nobody believed this to be wrong. Maximus was kind to his slaves and workers. In return, he expected the work to be done around the farm. He only hoped there would be some use for the threesome on the farm. Otherwise, his money would be wasted, surely.

A second blond head looked up just a tiny second but created an approving roar amongst the crowd. This face was ever as handsome as the tall man in the middle. Only the last slave was reluctant to let any indication of gender show itself.

The excited crowd was getting crueller in their comments about the slaves. As Maximus glanced at the market keeper, he began to feel sorry for the Elves. Why didn't the man present the slaves and get on with the bidding? Customers who were interested in bidding had probably already calculated how much they were willing to spend to get them.

A raw laughter rose higher than the noisy level of talk and the comment came instantly, "Show us what you got, luv!"

"Yeah, lift your skirt up, you little bitch!" another customer demanded. 

The lecherous crowd laughed expectantly. The keeper poked the last slave with a ridiculous stick he'd had in his hand through out the whole show. Completely humiliated the slave's hands fisted air a few seconds, but when the keeper aimed another harder poke there was a reaction. The slave obeyed and everybody watched the hem of the slave's tunic as it slowly crept higher on pale thighs. And there after the sky was filled with the deafening disappointed roars as male genitalia were revealed. 

The male slave felt the yelling as a wave of punishment and retreated a few steps letting go of his clothes. The keeper pushed him back to the edge of the stage and only because the larger male in the middle caught him, did he not fall into the crowd. 

"All right, all right. Let's begin." The keeper grunted wanting to close for today, eager to get back to his office and count the day's sales. Pointing his stick at the slaves, he began explaining their background. He was interrupted by a customer's attempt to throw in a bid already. It was Fulva Tollus - one of Senator Vispanius' high officials.

"1,000 Dinarii? Don't be ridiculous, Fulva. We all know why Vispanius wants these Elves. You will be paying me another price, if you want him to fuck any of them. Don't waste my time on anything lower than 5,000 Dinarii. You bloody well know that a worker is paid 3 Dinarii a year so give me some credit!" The keeper turned his gaze at the crowd who kept quiet to hear what else he had to say.

"These slaves come from Middle Earth; a not so easily trespassed region of our Empire. We all know Elves are not like us." He looked suggestively at the crowd who laughed stupidly at their own superiority. Embarrassed on behalf of these Romans, Maximus closed his eyes and shook his head. He was so close to just leaving but his eyes drifted back to the slaves again. Their misery was so heartbreaking that again he knew he had to get them and save them from a horrific future as pleasure slaves of some brothel or any bed of the crowd really, especially Vispanius’. It was well known that Elves wouldn't survive being raped, and they would wither away and die before the week was over. However, people like Vispanius found this aspect intriguing and the very reason why he only bought Elves. He thrived watching and causing their pain.

"Whatever else you feel like knowing about Elves, you'll have to ask of them yourselves - _when_ you have paid for them!" The crowd laughed along with him.

"Now. The tall one here...Glaurfinnel is it?" he asked the slave.

"Glorfindel," the Elf whispered and his face contracted slightly in defeat, as the keeper pulled him along to stand alone a few steps apart from the others. The keeper did the whole humiliating show. Showing off his best assets of his goods and then he asked for the first bid.

Maximus waited patiently as the fools expectantly crept closer and closer to a level where their wallets screamed. Then when the highest bidding customer thought he had won the lottery with a bid of 60,000 Dinarii, the Spaniard raised his hand and offered the keeper 75,000 Dinarii to shut up the crowd. There was an instant silence. 75,000 Dinarii! That was an obscene amount of money spent even on a delectable pleasure Elvish slave. 

Maximus stepped forward, "If there is anyone interested in bidding higher than this on the other slaves, then speak up." No one said anything but disappointed mumbling. Maximus looked directly at the market keeper and got an approving nod. 225,000 Dinarii for all three Elves was accepted silently.

"Come to my office and we’ll do business," the keeper mumbled discretely. "Fulva has already tried to make me persuade you to resale the Elves to him."

Maximus understood the implication of trouble and acted quickly. The slaves were taken back to the slaves' quarters, temporarily, soon Maximus would return to Toscana. End of story.


	2. Chapter 2

In the slaves' quarters, the Elves sat down on a bench. Their strength was failing them completely. Legolas closed his eyes. He was so grateful to be spared any further humiliation. 

Haldir put his hands on his knees. He fixed his eyes at a slave on the opposite bench. The slave stared back at all three of them. Eyes dull and defeated. He hadn't been bought.

"At least we will be together," Haldir said quietly.

Glorfindel looked to the skies through the open ceil and sent a prayer to Elbereth. When he saw the general behaviour of the crowd, he had almost felt like jumping out into the masses to die here and now from a sword. Now he was glad he hadn't. He was still angry for being imprisoned and enslaved, but so far, he wanted to give their new master a chance. He had a good feeling about their master. He sensed something righteous in him and a deep unreleased passion that he couldn’t help respond to. They could think about an eventual escape later on, if his estimation had been mistaken. 

Maximus waited patiently as his turn finally came up. Papers of ownership shifted and Maximus paid his debts. Then all that was left was for him to collect his slaves and leave this decadent place. Cicero had ran yet another errand and bought new clothes and headscarves for the slaves. They had to be careful not to attract too much attention. 

In the slaves' quarters, Maximus came to collect his purchase. The Elves were given the new clothes and grateful they dressed. Maximus also handed them the scarves and commanded them to cover their hair.

Puzzled they looked at him, and Maximus realised in that instant that these male slaves were beings of high intelligence, and he felt an overwhelming embarrassment all of a sudden that they had been ripped from their world to serve others such as himself. 

"You have to cover your hair. Flaunting your beauty is far too dangerous. We must keep a low profile. The Roman plebeians are not a crowd we want against us. We must leave Rome as quickly as possible."

The Elves looked at each other as if they were communicating silently, and Maximus had no doubt that they actually were. The tall Elf bent and picked up dirt from the ground, spat in his hands, and smeared the dirt on the faces of the other two. He had the same process done to him by one of the others.

"Which one of you is Leckohlez?" Maximus tried to pronounce the written name on his ownership papers.

Legolas smiled unwillingly. "I am Legolas." 

Maximus smiled back. He remembered the market keeper pronouncing the tall one Glaurfinnel and assumed he must be Glorfindel. The last one had to be Haldir. Haldir just nodded. The pronunciation was fine. Besides, he couldn't care less whether or not the master was able to pronounce his name. He wrapped his gorgeous silver blond hair in a bundle and tied the scarf around it. Maximus looked at them. Recognising them now would be harder.

Maximus had thought about transportation for his newest household. He decided to buy one additional horse. Legolas and Glorfindel would share one horse, since Legolas was the lightest and Glorfindel the heaviest of them. Haldir had to share Cicero's horse. The general would ride in the back. Cicero would ride in the front, and the two other Elves in the middle. Finally, they were on their way.

*~.:.~*

Maximus planned to reach the home of his old friend Tarquini. Their friendship went a long way back to academy training but an injury had cut off the military career of his friend. In his house, Maximus and his household could spend the night safely, and no questions would be asked of their whereabouts.

After an hour of travelling, they were out of suburban Rome. They reached the peak of a hill and were now standing on the impressive main road to Rome 'Via Aurelia' that had a foundation of iron underneath it. They had a lovely access to view the inspiring Roman architecture.

They took a break a couple of hours later. Everyone dismounted and led the horses down a slope off 'Via Aurelia' towards a stream that ran under a viaduct. There were nice grassy areas all along the stream. Cypresses, shrubs, and the occasional birdsong gave a pleasant air to the Elves' tired faces. Obviously, they looked forward to resting. Crossing the stream, the small group continued their journey over meadows nearby after their break.

The Elves were quiet, yet Maximus sensed they were alert all the time. Glorfindel looked at Maximus from occasionally and Maximus looked back. After a while, Glorfindel allowed himself a smile at his master, and Maximus completely lost his breath. Glorfindel was very handsome, and the general could appreciate the beauty in a male. However, he had no idea what to do with the unexpected sensation in his groin. He stood, trying desperately to force Marcellina's features into his head, but he couldn't do it. 

Glorfindel's eyes - those observant, deep blue eyes seemed to burn their way into Maximus' own eyes, and further on to spreading a web of pleasure trapping his brain.

"Where can I relieve myself?" Haldir suddenly interrupted Maximus' thoughts. Maximus pointed in an indifferent direction and Haldir went right away.

Legolas looked at Maximus, "May I be excused as well?"

"Wait your turn," Glorfindel said. Legolas just nodded and drew circles in the dry dirt on his knee with a wet finger. Now it was Legolas looking at Maximus, who returned his look; again those eyes. All three Elves had unnaturally expressive eyes: Glorfindel's were blue-ish grey, Legolas' were green, and Haldir's were violet blue. They were all Elves who hid what they thought behind a stare so powerful that even men such as Maximus felt forced to look away. As he did then, turning his gaze from Legolas' eyes. When Haldir returned, Legolas asked again, and Maximus nodded his permission but still refrained from meeting the inquisitive stare. 

Haldir sat close to Glorfindel and closed his eyes for a moment. Glorfindel put his arms around him and to Maximus' surprise, he kissed Haldir on the mouth. When the kiss was over, Haldir looked at Maximus with hard eyes, and for the third time Maximus looked away. He was beginning to feel that it had been a bad idea to purchase the Elves. The road towards home seemed suddenly far away. But then he only had to remind himself of the pitiful sight of his slaves on the market, and he knew he at least had done the right thing by getting them away from there. Once they reached his home, and the Elves were settled, he would stand a better chance to plan where they would be needed the best. He might even set them free, but he feared they'd only be re-captured, and then there was no way he could save them.

Glorfindel watched Legolas as he came back. He extended his embrace to Legolas too, and the blond leaned into it.

Cicero watched them curiously as he returned from giving the horses water. "Are you brothers, if you don't mind me asking?"

Legolas answered, "We do not mind. But no, we are not brothers - neither in language nor in kin. Haldir and I are Silvan Elves. We speak Grey Elven. Glorfindel is an Eldar and speaks High Elven as well as Grey Elven." Cicero had no idea what the difference was but gave them a friendly smile. He could have sworn that at least Haldir and Glorfindel were brothers.

The Elves whispered amongst themselves in a language of such delicate sounds that it compelled both Maximus and Cicero to just sit quietly and listen. Maximus' eyes drifted shut, lulled by the musical sounds. He was tired and just wished they were home already. The wish was so strong that he felt like racing their horses to the limit, but that would surely kill the poor creatures.

Out of nowhere, there came a sudden commotion. Just to be on the safe side, Maximus, and his party quickly hid behind some trees. A caravan worked itself down 'Via Aurelia' and of all places chose this place to take their break. Tables and chairs were arranged. Soon lunch followed.

Maximus sighed, "How inconvenient." 

But as he watched the people get settled, he soon realised that there was nothing to fear, as it was just a rich man on his way home just like Maximus. He motioned for Cicero that they should leave. Their actions apparently caught the attention of the other party, and suddenly a servant was passing the stream carrying a little basket of bread. 

Legolas tugged on Maximus' sleeve. "Look at that man, master."

Maximus was aware of him and watched calmly as the man reached his destination.

"My master, Lucius Valerius Sinner, asks of you to kindly receive these loaves honey bread." 

Maximus smiled, surprised of the kindness of the other man, and accepted.

"I would like to thank him myself," he said politely.

Sinner waved at Maximus as he motioned him to follow the servant back to his group. 

"Stay where you are," Sinner said, "No need to exhaust yourself on my behalf!" 

Maximus waved back. He was relieved that he didn't have to do the whole politeness show. 

Haldir already ate one of the loaves. "It tastes a bit like lembas," he said. 

Glorfindel and Legolas looked at each other and soon they gnawed on a couple of loaves too.

Sinner suddenly asked, "Where are you going? There are bandits everywhere. And you don't look armed enough to protect yourselves."

Cicero noticed a badly disguised smug expression cross the Elves' lips, raising goose bumps all over his body. In a flash, he saw himself strangled by the bare hands of an Elf. He hadn't dared to oppose his master's purchases, but he had no doubt that the Elves weren't going to let anyone have an easy time trying to kill them.

"We have arranged logins for the night," Maximus proclaimed to satisfy the unnecessary worry of Sinner.

"Then I don't understand the lack of an escort, my friend. I will grant you ten men." Maximus was puzzled by Sinner's kindness.

"Why?"

"You are General Maximus, I presume."

Maximus relaxed, understanding that Sinner was a benefactor of the Emperor. He didn't remember Sinner's name or face but apparently Sinner remembered his.

"Yes, that I am, and I thank you, but I need to be incognito on this travel. We travel more safely this way."

All of a sudden, an eagle emerged from the sky out of nowhere and flew dangerously close to Legolas. The eagle stole his honey bread and rose to the sky. Then it flew along the river. Sinner's guards wanted to kill it, but their master refused to let them.

The eagle suddenly dumped the bread back into Legolas' hand. Legolas looked at Glorfindel and whispered in Sindarin, "It gave me back the bread." The eagle rose to the sky once more and appearing as if it had evaporated into the sun, it disappeared.

Sinner proclaimed, "It's a sign! The grand Jupiter has come to seek the lord of the world. As Jupiter is the lord of the sky, so shall you be the lord of mankind!" He then pointed at Legolas who stood quite still as he listened to this man rambling on about gods of which he had no knowledge. He shot Maximus a puzzled look. Maximus was suddenly not at ease with this anymore.

"And I who offered you an escort. I should have realised the gods themselves would protect you. Forgive my ignorance." This Legolas could understand, only that he had his own gods with him, not the gods of this human. He nodded gracefully, refraining from making a snide comment to the old fool. 

The Elves glanced at Maximus, and he realised that of course they hadn't had any idea that he had been a general. Apparently, the information had made an impact on them.

The party of Sinner bid them farewell, allowing Maximus and his household to carry on their journey towards the house of Tarquini. Tiredly, they arrived in the courtyard of Tarquini's estate before nightfall. They were kindly greeted and, as he'd expected, there were no questions asked about the exotic looks of his slaves. He had Cicero make sure that the Elves' accommodations were satisfactory. 

At dinner, Maximus couldn't concentrate on Tarquini's small talk about politics, economics, and warfare. He didn't care about those subjects anymore, but Tarquini didn't seem to notice. Maximus' thoughts drifted towards his slaves in the servants' quarters. He saw Glorfindel behind his eyelids, as he indulged himself the pleasure of visualising the tall Elf's attractive features.

"Am I tiring you, dear friend? I should have known that you would be fatigued from travelling. I apologise dearly." 

Maximus' body jerked. He had been sleeping; dreaming about Glorfindel. He'd immediately forgotten what the dream was about but his hardened manhood spoke its own language.

"No, it is I, my friend, who should apologise to you. I am afraid my company is poor." They exchanged a smile.

Maximus sat for while to make sure that he wasn't exposing himself improperly in front of his host, before he excused himself for the night thanking Tarquini for his hospitality.

He went to see Cicero before going to bed.

"Is everything all right? Were you all fed well enough?"

Cicero looked distressed at Maximus. "The food was fine, but the Elves, sir! It's spooky the way they sleep with their eyes open."

Maximus shrugged. "Then don't look - they really do that?" he asked intrigued.

"See for yourself, sir."

Maximus silently went to the Elves' beds and, astonished, he had to agree. The sight of the Elves sleeping with their eyes open was very disturbing. Suddenly, Haldir looked directly at him. Maximus turned away, embarrassed, and left quickly. Apparently, Haldir hadn't been sleeping at all. Maximus guessed the Elves slept in shifts, taking their turns 'watching'. They were foremost looking after themselves.

*~.:.~* 

Later in the night, Maximus felt the need to wake up. He had the feeling of being watched. Opening his eyes, he saw a naked Glorfindel sitting on his bed. Raw sensuality surrounded him. Maximus was speechless. He could only look at the magnificent Elf who did nothing except looking back at him. Then the Elf reached out his hand and slowly uncovered Maximus' naked body letting the blanket slide down on the floor. The sight of heavy pecs and a flat stomach caused a sly smile to appear on Glorfindel's exquisite face. Maximus swallowed a few times. He knew that he liked what the blond was doing to him, and though he should, he wasn't going to object to it.

Glorfindel's eyes rested further down Maximus' body. Maximus could almost feel the Elf's eyes caressing his hardening member with every passing second. Glorfindel released his hair from the scarf that he had covered his hair with due to the short walk to the house from the servants' quarters. His mane cascaded down his well-toned body like a golden curtain, illuminated by the dim light from a torch hanging on the wall.

He straddled the general, soundlessly lowering himself on Maximus' cock. Maximus closed his eyes with a sigh. The tight pressure that surrounded his erection was so different from the feeling of being inside his wife. There was no comparison at all. Even the smells were different. Where Marcellina smelled like freshly baked bread and early morning dew, Glorfindel smelled like rich earth and an undefined sweetness at the same time.

Lowering his upper body, Glorfindel’s lips touched Maximus' for a brief second. Maximus opened his eyes and Glorfindel's gaze burned into his mind. Keeping his eyes locked to Glorfindel's was hard, and he felt like he was witnessing the other's soul and the emotions the Elf displayed to him made him dizzy. Maximus sighed again as his body shuddered with desire. He pulled Glorfindel's head close to cut off the eye contact and buried his face in the crook of the Elf's neck. Confident in how to pleasure himself Glorfindel began to move, and soon he moaned softly. 

They kissed once more, a kiss that deepened as Glorfindel began increasing the speed with short, and precise movements. Maximus had finally overcome his hesitance of the course of the comely Elf’s seduction methods and, enthralled by the sensations in his body, he thrust into Glorfindel's body. Their eyes were locked on to each other once more. Maximus was coping better witnessing the emotions passing in Glorfindel's eyes. The Elf's age was indefinable. None of the Elves' exact ages was described in the ownership papers. 'Age roughly thirty' on Glorfindel's sheet. 'Age roughly twenty' on both Legolas' and Haldir's sheets. Nevertheless, Maximus knew they had to be older. Their behaviour was not that of men such young.

Soon both their bodies hummed with joyous pleasure. Their kisses grew passionate and fierce. Never in his wildest dreams had Maximus encountered coupling so naked and raw as the one that Glorfindel coaxed him into this night. Maximus was beyond any state of conscious behaviour as if their mating was life in itself. The pleasure they shared seemed to continue forever; their climax so far away. He smiled against Glorfindel's mouth and felt the Elf smile back. Breathing the same air; being the same person. Maximus was falling deep into feelings never before touched and he welcomed them. His climax finally came lurking. Then it neared full force, and he gasped Glorfindel's name. Called him "my love"; called him "my sweet treasure."

Glorfindel called him something as well, but Maximus didn't catch the words as he was swept away on the most pleasurable orgasmic ride of his life. Looking at the Elf with drowsy dazed eyes, Maximus suddenly realised that Glorfindel hadn't come yet. He thrust a few more times and saw Glorfindel close his eyes. The Elf frowned in concentration and he panted as he dropped his head; his silky hair danced on Maximus' skin. Then he flung his hair backwards in a dramatic motion.

"Fuck, you're sexy," Maximus murmured and increased the speed. Glorfindel's tongue licked his lower lip. He bit it and his hands traced strange circles in the air as he opened his mouth and exhaled. To Maximus' astonishment, Glorfindel hadn't spilled any seed, but he felt clearly the exciting contractions inside Glorfindel's body. Glorfindel panted and devoured Maximus' mouth whispering words in his own language. Maximus smiled. Glorfindel's orgasm was quite spectacular. The Elf let go of Maximus' mouth and gasped to catch his breath as another spasm rode through his body. Maximus felt the contractions stronger. He continued to thrust and manipulate the Elf into lose self-control and voice his release. Maximus reached out to rub Glorfindel's nipples, which was the blond's undoing. Shaking, Glorfindel burst into a loud moan as he peaked. Maximus felt he was able to come a second time, too, and thrust into Glorfindel's spent body. Suddenly, a different shade of feelings invaded his mind and it was like he felt Glorfindel's aftershock on top of his own upcoming high. Gritting his teeth, he savoured the amazing sensation; his fingers bruising Glorfindel's hips as he came.

Glorfindel collapsed and practically fell on top of Maximus whispering with a sated smile on his lips, "Let it be done." 

Maximus immediately crushed him tighter letting his hands roam caressingly up and down the Elf's moist skin. Glorfindel didn't attempt to indicate if he wanted Maximus to withdraw his cock so in this fashion they fell asleep.

In the morning, Maximus awoke with a start. Again, he felt eyes resting on him, and opening his own, he stared into Legolas' playful gaze instead of Glorfindel, who had left the bed at some point. Discovering that Legolas was naked, Maximus froze; there was no mistaking what his business was.

 

*~.:.~*


	3. Chapter 3

*~.:.~*

 

Legolas climbed into the bed and stretched his entire length catlike on top of Maximus' body. There wasn't much left of yesterday's frightened, humiliated display in the market. Sighing, Maximus accepted that _this_ Elf also wanted to have sex with him, as he cupped and kneaded Legolas' soft buttocks. Legolas kissed his lips, teasingly. He crawled backwards and sat on Maximus' lower body. Grabbing the general’s engorged cock, Legolas began impaling himself. He whispered with a dangerous yet passionate glint in his eyes, "Master..." His lips captured Maximus' and soon the Spaniard's body hummed with sweet sensations as Legolas rode on top of him in a slow and dominating manner. Every time he began to approach climax, Legolas slowed down and teased him cruelly.

"Do you like it, Master?" he purred, "Can you feel me? Can you feel how tight I am around you? Are... you... not... enter... tained?"  
Maximus nodded and whimpered in need at the erotic sight of Legolas in this position.

"Please, sweet Legolas... please. I beg of you," Maximus gasped. Legolas slowed down even further, knowing his master was suffering sweet pain. Smiling viciously, he pinched Maximus' nipples slowly in the same pattern his body gyrated around his cock. Legolas closed his eyes and lifted his hands. He dug inside his long hair with both hands. His face was a delightful display of passion.

"By the gods and everything dear to me, don't let Haldir be next. I'll die soon then." 

Legolas returned his focus on Maximus and grinned evilly with passionate hazy eyes. "Fear not. Haldir cannot stand you. He will pleasure himself with Glorfindel."

Maximus frowned. "Aha - and you and Glorfindel? I mean... Haldir?" 

Legolas just bent lower and cupped his jaws, where after he almost kissed the life out of him.

Instantly, Maximus felt the pace increase. He gasped and moaned incoherently inside his partner's sweet mouth as Legolas showed him how he wanted Maximus to take him. Maximus came like an explosion inside Legolas' willing, hot flesh. He just looked into Legolas' wild eyes as the orgasm shot through the Elf's lithe body. Not a young man of twenty for sure. Just as Maximus had observed with Glorfindel, Legolas came seedless. 

"How old are you, Legolas?" he asked.

Legolas hesitated a few seconds before answering, "I doubt that you will believe me, but Elves get very old."

Maximus’ eyes pleaded indulgence. 

Nodding, Legoals replied, "Fine - I am 1,254 years old." 

Maximus' sharp intake of breath came promptly. The Elf gradually lifted his hips letting Maximus feel his own cock slide out of Legolas' entrance. Bit by bit, Legolas pushed back and Maximus moaned and grabbed Legolas' sweat slicked buttocks once more. They made love yet again. Maximus was delirious at the thought of this unbelievable, writhing beauty on his lap being that old. 

"How..." Maximus licked his upper lip, "old..." he stopped as sensations made him lose the train of thought a few seconds, "are the..." he groaned out loud and fought to finish the question, "others?" 

Legolas kissed him. "Do not know." Kiss. "Do not care." Kiss. "Older than I, though." 

Legolas and Maximus gasped in unison as their orgasms came nearer. They moaned into each other's mouths in a hungry kiss as the delicious shudders peaked in their bodies.

Before Legolas left him, as the general was close to slumber the Elf mumbled with shiny eyes, "Let it be done."

*~.:.~* 

Thankfully, Legolas had been right. Haldir did not come for his share. However, Maximus was a bit disconcerted that Haldir, as Legolas had put it, couldn't stand him. Sitting for a while, Maximus tried to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last two days. Before he had set eyes on the Elves, Maximus had never desired a man, not even when life got lonely in battle. He had to conclude that the Elves themselves were the reason that he had released this unexpected passion. The Elven race was so different from everything in the civilized Roman world that he'd grown accustomed to. Their perception of love was mind-blowing and Maximus felt they 'hadn't done with him', yet. He hadn't been looking for pleasure slaves, but somehow the line was narrow. These slaves were direct sexual beings. He had honestly thought he'd saved them from a cruel future. Now he was quite certain that they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. They’d fooled everyone, Maximus inclusive, but at this point, he didn’t mind. Time would show if he was to regret his purchase.

Closing his eyes, he recalled Legolas' broken behaviour at the slave market. Rationalising, Maximus thought that the young Elf was probably the most dangerous of the three slaves. Had a stupid lecherous customer purchased Legolas, the poor man would have been killed before he even got close enough to touch his slave. That left Maximus puzzled. Why were Glorfindel and Legolas seducing _him_ , then? Were they trying to make him go crazy with want? They had both snuck up on him in his sleep, and could easily have killed him and run away. However, they hadn't but chose to share their bodies with him and thus shown him the pleasure of which they were capable; the pleasure that he knew he would soon become addicted to.

Shutting his eyes, Maximus allowed himself one little happy thought. Perhaps the Elves had began feeling affectionate towards him? He shook his head. No. A plausible explanation could be that they were acting like the pleasure slaves they had been sold as. Maximus had to make them understand that that was not what he expected of them. Then he grabbed at his hair in frustration as he remembered the conclusions he had drawn earlier. No one was able to force these slaves into being pleasure slaves. Therefore, last night's love making must have been done of their own free will. The way Legolas had called him Master... Maximus was absolute certain that the Elf hadn't meant it one bit. There had been a lilt to his voice. As if he'd wanted to be punished by his Master. Maximus was nervous all of a sudden. He felt the tables had turned and that the Elves were, in fact, his masters instead of the other way around. He decided that he would have to tie their wrists for today's travel, and in this way demonstrate who was truly in control.

He washed his body clean of his own and his two lovers' sweat. That was the only evidence of the incredible sex. He smiled a bit. The two blonds had been completely different, and though he thoroughly enjoyed Glorfindel's affection for him, he had to admit that Legolas' wildness had set him on fire. He shuddered for a second letting their faces grace his mind. Legolas... Glorfindel... His cock hardened at the thought of them. Haldir... Haldir's hard eyes were his undoing. He fisted his erection and spilled his seed shortly after. 

After breakfast and a kind farewell to their host, the quintet was ready to leave. Tarquini shot a glance at Maximus when he tied the hands of his slaves to their horses. He studied his friend's resolute facial expression. He had had the opinion that the general was fond of his slaves. Something must have happened since last night that had given his friend reason to tie them up. Never had the general had any need to behave in this manner towards his staff in Tarquini's recollection. But the slaves were newly bought and perhaps they needed to be disciplined for all Tarquini knew.

The Elves didn't comment their Master's actions at all, but held their eyes downcast as they let the human tie them up. 

Maximus had to swallow hard. All of a sudden, an erotic situation was developing and he had to act quickly. Just one look at how innocently Glorfindel held his hands on Legolas' waist was enough for Maximus to avoid eye contact with any of the Elves. If he did, he knew they would mesmerize him and he was already on the verge of arousal. Although, he really hated himself for doing this to the beautiful guiltless creatures, he had to go through with this display of control. / _Three more days and two more nights, then I'm home and safe,_ / Maximus sighed as he mounted his horse.

A few hours later, they rested by a creek. Maximus had untied the Elves. Now he lay on his back with his eyes closed, feeling tired and emotionally spent. Cicero sat close to him and Maximus felt him jerk nervously. Opening his eyes, he saw Glorfindel was the reason as the slave was on his way towards Maximus and Cicero.

/ _Why is Cicero nervous?_ / Maximus thought. He sensed nothing malice in the Elf’s approach. It had to be something else and he wondered. Maximus was about to sit up when Glorfindel knelt behind him, took his head in his lap, and gently began massaging his scalp. His ministrations were soothing and intimate. Cicero nearly jumped when he felt Haldir position himself behind him and repeat the same service. Maximus noticed Haldir's raptured face and he realised that he was silently communicating with Legolas, who had come to stand a few yards from them. Legolas fell on his knees as both Glorfindel and Haldir made eye contact with him. Maximus realised in that moment that Glorfindel had never been the leader of the Elves. It had been Legolas all along. For all the general knew, Legolas was probably also the one who had initiated the whole seduction scene last night.

Mesmerized, the two men could do nothing but watch the three Elves increasingly became more enthusiastic. When Glorfindel kissed Maximus passionately, the general felt the Elf's ardour reverberate in his own body. Maximus dared not glance at how Cicero was coping under Haldir's lovingly grip in his hair. Soon, Maximus was reduced to solely focusing on an aroused Legolas who sighed louder as he came. Probably without spilling a single drop of his fluids. The same climax happened to the others, and Maximus felt how Glorfindel's touch of his soul drifted away when the Elf let go of his lips. 

Delicately, Legolas got on his feet and came towards Glorfindel and Maximus. He kissed both of them affectionately and gave them a hand to stand up. Then he went to stand beside Haldir and Cicero. Giving Haldir a hand, the Elf grabbed the offered help and was soon wrapped in Legolas' embrace devouring his lips. Cicero began crouching backwards. He was anxious and when Maximus felt his trembling knees again would support him, he went to reassure him. 

Cicero began babbling the instant Maximus reached him. "Sir, I implore you. The slaves have put a spell on us. They will kill us. We'll never get home... ever! You should never have purchased them. I felt the danger immediately. They're Man-Sirens," he whispered in a voice so feeble that Maximus felt sorry for him. He heard Glorfindel chuckle. 

"They can hear you, Cicero. I think nothing escapes their attention. I'd advice you not to compare them to the likes of human whores, Cicero."

Maximus turned around to face the Elves, and to his surprise, he found Glorfindel busy putting the rope on his fellow Elves. Quickly, Maximus looked at Cicero who stood scratching his head in surprised confusion. He then went to assist Glorfindel.

Haldir hissed at Cicero with a wicked grin when Cicero dared to near the horse they shared. Cicero swallowed hard. However, he had to get on that horse, though his body screamed in warning against doing so. He just knew Haldir would fondle him discretely again. The Elf had done that occasionally during the ride yesterday and a few times today, too. Yesterday, he even managed to touch Cicero's deceitful blood swollen cock head. As Haldir smeared pre-cum all over the hard flesh, Cicero's body felt electrified excitement shoot through his body, but demonstratively he'd removed Haldir's cool callused hand. He remembered the soft chuckle in his ear. A whore the Elf was, but more seductive than any whore Cicero had ever met. He doubted he could resist Haldir much longer. He smelled so good and the full lips that occasionally graced his neck from probably tasted like... Cicero swallowed some more. Not being able to get Haldir out of his mind was becoming his only problem, however an increasing problem.

From time to time did Legolas and Glorfindel's horse ride close to Maximus' side. A lovely pale hand, sometimes even two, would travel the length of Maximus' thigh and then move away. Maximus couldn't help but smile. The way the teasing look had replaced suspicion on Legolas' and Glorfindel's faces was actually delightful. Haldir still hadn't offered the general one bit of indication of what went on in his mind. The Elf was rather hostile towards his Master, casting almost angry glances in his direction and deliberately ignoring Maximus when he approached the Elf in any matter. If they wanted to, the Elves could push Cicero from his horse and simply leave on the two horses. Deep down inside, Maximus suspected that eventually they would leave, but so far, they wanted their fun.

One hour later, their serene journey was shattered to pieces by an almost inevitable intrusion; eight bandits on horseback appeared in their path. Maximus felt adrenaline rise in his body and he withdrew his sword. Cicero produced three small knives from a bag on his horse but whined girlishly when Legolas and Glorfindel snatched two of them from his hand. Haldir grabbed a heavy stick lying handily on the ground. Quickly, the Elves cut their ropes off their wrists and when the bandits attacked, they were ready. Maximus used his sword to separate the head from his first opponent's body. Then, he practically cleaved the next bandit in two, slicing through his waist and drawing the sword upwards. Glorfindel ducked as a bandit attacked him with a horrible multi-pointed iron stick. He managed to rip open the man's calf. The bandit roared in pain and insanity shone in his eyes as he returned. And yet, all he saw in the few seconds that were left of his life was Haldir's eyes twinkling with hatred as he rode past, planting the wooden weapon in his face. Legolas pulled a bandit off his horse and while straddling him, he cut his throat. They all lost their concentration as they heard the sudden sound of Cicero's screams.

"HALDIR! TULU CICERO!" Legolas shouted, frantically. He broke the dying bandit's neck and got on his feet, hurrying to where Cicero struggled for his life. Both Haldir and Legolas were too late. Cicero's knees buckled as his murderer retrieved his sword from the helpless assistant's body. Haldir and Legolas ripped their victim's limbs from his body in uncontrolled rage. Haldir motioned Legolas to help Glorfindel and Maximus as he tried to make Cicero's last moments alive as comfortable as possible.

Legolas grabbed the dying bandit's sword and closed in on the last villain. Maximus aided him from the other side but then the coward turned his horse and fled. Legolas sprung on the nearest horse and pursued him. Soon, they could hear from the horrible screams that the death of the fugitive didn't come short and painlessly.

Exhausted Maximus fell to his knees beside Haldir and Cicero. Softly, he touched Cicero's face with adrenaline-trembling fingers. Bravely, Cicero tried to smile at him but his handsome features stiffened as death replaced life. Haldir squeezed his eyes shut. Astounded, Maximus watched as tears unexpectedly ran down Haldir's cheeks. Glorfindel joined them and, a few minutes later, Legolas arrived. Legolas stood stiffly watching with blood all over his clothes, face, and hair. His bloody sword fell on the ground and he bent forwards grabbing his knees as a low sound escaped his lips. Then he knelt to the ground and embraced his own body tightly. Maximus was speechless. He had had no idea that the Elves had felt kindness towards Cicero. The sorrow he felt, made him numb inside. Cicero had been a part of his life for seven years, professionally, but also personally. Now that Cicero was gone, Maximus didn't know how to react. Somehow, his brain hadn't gotten the message yet.

"What will you do with Cicero?" Glorfindel asked softly. Maximus turned towards him and the embrace he received, as he neared the tall Elf, was comforting. 

"We should bury him here. His kin lives too far away. I'll find a way somehow to describe in a letter this place in case they want to retrieve his body later." Glorfindel didn't comment on the burial traditions of Man. 

Maximus scratched his neck and said, "We cannot build a pyre for him. We must leave the possibility for his body to be moved later. We'll have to cover him with branches."

Legolas looked horrified. "But he will rot and attract wild animals!"

"That's all we can do, Legolas," Maximus interrupted tiredly, "I wish I could present this more properly, but I can't. We must continue soon. More bandits will probably come our way. We cannot linger longer than necessary." 

Glorfindel gave Maximus a last squeeze before he kissed him tenderly. Then the four males tried to arrange Cicero's deceased body in a spot as cool and covered as possible. The Elves then sang for him in their beautiful tongue before they all moved on. 

This time they all had a horse of their own.

*~.:.~* 

At nightfall, they decided to sleep in the woods. Maximus had no friends to whom they could turn to safely until the next night. They were very quiet as they huddled together on their bedrolls. Maximus tried to sleep, but rest failed him. The Elves sighed quietly from time to time and, in the end, he got up and went for a walk. He knew he would end up in an orgy, and he really didn't need that so close to his home. He climbed a tree and sat for a while relaxing. He saw his family in his mind and smiled fondly. Then two beautiful passionate faces gasping in pleasure forced their way inside his mind. He felt a shock wave as the feeling of their climax coursed inside him and he gasped as his own orgasm took his breath away. He came, lolling his head from side to side with closed eyes. Then he realised he hadn't even touched his own member, and that the orgasm had been seedless. Puzzled he turned his head in the Elves' direction, and saw Legolas sitting underneath the tree looking up.

"We miss you, master. Come back to our bed. We will take care of you." 

Maximus just stared at him. The Elves would be his doom. They were insatiable, and nevertheless he jumped to the ground and right into Legolas' arms. Legolas immediately devoured his lips, and Maximus had no choice but to give in to the sensations rushing through him.

"Haldir wants you, Master," Legolas whispered adoringly, "He wants to connect with you like Glorfindel and I."

"I thought he hated me," Maximus replied kissing Legolas below his earlobe.

Legolas smiled and his laughter sounded like a crisp silver bell, "Nay. Where we come from, we do not hate unless there is a reason." He stopped his caresses and withdrew all of a sudden.

"Come. Come and let Haldir show you the secrets of his body, Master," he said seductively. 

Maximus followed the stunning male Elf back to the camp and saw Haldir rise and come towards him. Haldir's hair waved in the slight breeze, and Maximus stood still and enjoyed the sight, speechlessly. Haldir looked down. Maximus suddenly realised this wasn't Haldir's choice. Legolas must have pushed him into it. He embraced the Elf and whispered into his lovely ear shell, "I'm not making you. I would never make you. Should you want to join me in my bed another time just let me know."

"I have to, Master. We all need to create a sexual bond to you or our chemistry is off balance."

"But you clearly don't want to, Haldir."

"That is beside the point, Master."

Maximus began to understand more bits to the puzzle that was his Elven slaves. "All right, then. Let's couple." 

Haldir smiled shyly and then bent his head. He looked at Maximus with an endearing expression in his eyes. Maximus bent too and kissed him as lightly as butterflies' touches. He then took a quick look around and realised Glorfindel and Legolas had disappeared. 

The kiss grew bolder and Haldir relaxed more. He slid his arms around Maximus' neck and let his body mould better against Maximus'. Maximus loved the feeling of holding this surprisingly warm and shy Elf in his arms and instinctively he felt this encounter would be a positive bolt from the blue. When Maximus’ hands slid lower to rest on the small of Haldir's back, the Elf had to take the next step. The kiss was softening again; exploring in its laziness and very lovely. Haldir's arms closed tighter around Maximus' neck, making his body press even firmer against the Spaniard’s body. To Maximus' delight he felt Haldir's arousal press against his thigh.

"Do you desire me, Elf?" 

Haldir withdrew swollen lips from Maximus' own mouth. His eyes shone dark and passionate and hesitantly he nodded once. Then he pressed his forehead against Maximus'. His breath was irregular, and when Maximus pressed his hand against Haldir's heart he sensed his heartbeat was faster than it should. He became worried.

"Are you sure this is your own free will? Legolas and Glorfindel are not manipulating your desire for me? I will not have you in my bed if you don't want me, Haldir. Is that clear?"

Haldir gasped shocked. "This is my own free will. We do not treat each other dishonourably."

Maximus said, "But then you come here freely even though you don't want me. Haldir... can't you see what that makes me feel?"

Haldir traced Maximus' jaw line with his tongue before he answered. "But I told you that I do desire you. That is the point. Your position in my life is the only reason I cannot accept."

"You being slaves, you mean?"

Haldir nodded. "I desire your body. I desire your mind. I desire sharing you with Glorfindel and Legolas. Can we go on? I have longed to take you ever since you bought me."

"But... Legolas said." 

Haldir lifted his head and looked patiently at his master, "Legolas is a lovely passionate friend, but he tends to over dramatize from time to time. Do not take him so literally."

Maximus frowned. His whole idea of Legolas being the leader suddenly changed. Could Haldir be the one instead? Then he decided that perhaps they were equals striving to protect each other in every way possible.

Then Haldir's words fully registered, "Take me? Do you seriously think that's an option?"

Haldir nodded as his lips and tongue pleasured themselves on Maximus' neck, "Ai, Master. I want to be the first one of us to claim your body."

Maximus didn't exactly know how to respond. He hadn't even thought about that variable. Haldir continued to deliver one dizzying kiss after another. His hands snaked inside Maximus' tunic and his nimble fingers worked their way lower on the general's abdomen. He went behind Maximus and continued to taste his salty skin while his hands reached their goal and folded around Maximus' arousal. Maximus sighed and rested his head against Haldir's shoulder. His exposed Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed several times in excitement. 

Haldir began easing off his master's clothes, and Maximus let him though he sensed a lure deep inside of him growing in its warning. Quickly, Haldir had divested himself of his own clothing and now they stood naked and hot; body against body. Maximus felt Haldir's arousal press between his thighs. He knew he would allow Haldir access to his body. He was excited about what being made love to would feel like. He would never forget the rapture on neither Glorfindel's nor Legolas' faces as they had let themselves be taken by Maximus' cock. The lure was working itself into a distinct thought. He had to get away from Haldir. Haldir's words suddenly gave meaning and Maximus' brain had translated the meaning. Through his passionate hazed body he managed to push the Elf away.

"Never!" Maximus yelled. He saw rage in Haldir's eyes. Haldir attacked him, and the force of his blow had the Spaniard on his back instantly.

"You will NOT escape me, Master!" Maximus stared into Haldir's eyes. They were scary. 

"What happens when you take me?" Haldir's eyes softened. Maximus drowned in his eyes.

"When I have taken you..." Haldir kissed him softly, "I will control your desire and consider you my pleasure slave." Maximus' eyes became impossibly wide. He began to struggle against Haldir once more, but fighting the strong Elf was hopeless. Suddenly, Haldir let go of him as he rose, collected his clothes, and left Maximus. He cast a glance over his shoulder.

"I am not a rapist, Master." 

"Why don't I control Legolas' and Glorfindel's desire?"

"Because you are not an Elf. You do not have the skill to control us."

"So fucking you means owning you?"

"Humans are the only ones who believe in papers. If you lose your papers, Master, you cannot claim you own us. If you let us take you, you will never again want not to be owned by us." With that statement Haldir disappeared into the trees, whispering so low Maximus never heard his words, "And you could have lived forever, my love."

Maximus hid his face behind his palms. For the 111th time, he wondered what on earth had kept the fucking Elves from just leaving their master or turning against him? A sudden thought made his body shiver. He knew the violence the Elves were capable of. He also knew the love and compassion they were capable of, too, and yet, what if they really wanted to enslave _him_? The sheer thought was frightening. He had to get rid of them as soon as possible before they succeeded in messing with his sanity. He couldn't even think about his lovely wife and son without drifting to think of the Elves instead. What kind of life could he offer the trio at the farm? He knew there was no way he could suggest to them to work there. They'd only laugh at him and demoralize the rest of his workers.

*~.:.~* 

In the morning, Maximus awoke and immediately felt something was wrong. The Elves were gone, but the horses were still close by. Grabbing his sword, Maximus quietly got on his feet and approached the horses. Then suddenly Glorfindel came down from a tree nearby. His face was gravely serious and he made gestures towards the trees. He helped Maximus to pack and get up in the difficult tree. There they sat for about fifteen minutes before Glorfindel whispered, "We are sensing danger, Master. A lot of danger. There are masses of men coming our way shortly."

"Masses?" Maximus whispered.

"Ai, twenty-thirty perhaps," Glorfindel whispered back. He looked lovingly at Maximus for a while, and then he leaned closer and whispered, "Oh, Master." He kissed him and put his arms around him. The general leaned into the Elf's body and took what he was offered. Glorfindel was so gentle and Maximus felt him in his mind. Felt how much Glorfindel enjoyed the kiss. How aroused the Elf seemed that Maximus' groin tingled despite the danger they were soon to encounter. Being able to feel the quiet Elf in his mind had become a luxury Maximus would not be without any more. Glorfindel let go of Maximus' lips as he sighed, "I think I love you, Maximus." 

Maximus' eyes widened. "You just called me by my name, Elf!"

Glorfindel looked down, "I apologize, Master. I..." Then he lifted his haunting eyes so full of love at his master again.

Maximus gave him a quick kiss. "Don't apologize, Glorfindel. I liked that." He kissed the handsome blond more thoroughly, and loved the subtle sensations passing through them. He knew he was reciprocating at that moment - that he was in love with Glorfindel, too, but he couldn't tell him that. God knows what advantage Glorfindel would gain from this information and through him the other Elves as well.

Another the shadows grew shorter, still, as they sat watching, and Maximus was restless not being in charge. From time to time, he shared kisses with the tall Elf who fondly embraced Maximus tightly and every time the general felt like he was experiencing not only his own but also Glorfindel's joy. He wondered if Glorfindel felt the same but then he realised that Glorfindel didn't. Because he hadn't taken Maximus.

"How long have you waited, Glorfindel? And why did you let me sleep so late if we are in danger?"

"We sense danger a long time before the enemy appears. You had plenty of time to sleep until the danger arrived. However, they are closing in now. They should be here anytime."

"Where are Legolas and Haldir?"

"I honestly do not know."

"Have they left us?"

Glorfindel's eyes were pure disbelief. "We would never leave you, Master. We do not like being your slaves, but for the time being, we have chosen to accept you as our master if you will, but to us you’re more like our War Lord. Be assured that we stand by your side until you choose otherwise."

Maximus swallowed a couple of times. That would explain why sex with him was alluring to - well at least - Legolas and Glorfindel. He kissed Glorfindel brutally and held so tightly into his hair that the Elf's scarf fell to the ground. Glorfindel broke the kiss frantically and had to jump to the ground to retrieve the treacherous garment. In that instant men came from everywhere. Barbarians from the North. Maximus jumped to help Glorfindel and somehow he felt Legolas there too, but he dared not lose eye contact with the enemy. 

A large man came close to Maximus and stared at him for while. 

"You again!" he growled in his own language. The Berserker Valdemar remembered Maximus from a previous battle. The Romans hadn't been successful in making these Berserkers part of the Empire. Now they were trying to do the same to the Romans by maiming and capturing their way down the Empire. Valdemar never forgot the victorious feeling when the Romans retreated after a weeklong battle in his homeland in the North. He especially remembered their general because he had personally slain both Valdemar's sons.

Valdemar took a few turns around the general. He was not afraid of the Roman's sword. He was more worried about the huge man at his side. He looked like a Berserker but he seemed completely different.

"Where are you from?" However, the blond didn't answer, so Valdemar pushed the man who reacted by disarming him so fast that Valdemar never saw his movement. Suddenly, he was captured in the other man's arms with a sword put to his throat. 

Maximus noticed that Haldir and Legolas were now at their side and he breathed in relief that they were unharmed. The intensity of the scene was unbearable. He knew they didn't stand a chance anymore and were going to be captured in a moment.

"Let go of the man, Glorfindel. We'll only end up dead."

"Never," Haldir answered hissing in a low voice. 

Legolas closed his eyes. He took a step forward and threw his sword in front of the crowd. With liquid eyes, he allowed the Barbarians to tie him up and throw him to the ground. The same happened to Maximus and Haldir. The men beat Glorfindel, who had tried to capture the Barbarians’ leader, until Valdemar finally raised his hand. 

"Quit it people. Don't blame him for being faster than I." Valdemar knelt beside Glorfindel who tried to get on his knees. Valdemar kissed his bruised mouth and then delivered a punch himself with a satisfied smirk. 

"We'll camp here!"

The leader then squatted and watched Glorfindel. The Elf tried to ignore it for a while, but the Berserker did nothing but staring at him. Glorfindel tried to ignore it, but eventually he became increasingly tense of what was going to happen to him and the others as well. 

When Valdemar's tent was raised, he suddenly grabbed Glorfindel by his hair and arm and dragged the shocked Elf to the tent. The other prisoners were tied up and sat around a tree.

Inside the tent, Valdemar kicked Glorfindel to the ground. He towered over the Elf and asked in Latin, "Who are you spying for?" 

Glorfindel blinked and mumbled, "I do not know of what you speak..."

"Fuck you! You're spies and you're in a Roman general's company. Don't make me kill you and go on to the next of your kin! I couldn't care less. That would only make lesser of you blond ones!"

Glorfindel believed him. "Very well, we are spies."

 

*~.:.~*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know Elves are not 'men', but Valdemar doesn't know. That's why I'm referring to the Elves as 'men'.  
> Valhalla is the Scandinavian death world for warriors in the Iron Age. Thor was the war god of all Scandinavia in the Iron Age.

*~.:.~* 

 

Inside the tent, Valdemar kicked Glorfindel to the ground. He towered over the Elf and asked in Latin, "Who are you spying for?" 

Glorfindel blinked and mumbled, "I do not know of what you speak..."

"By all deities! You're spies and you're in a Roman general's company. Don't make me kill you and go on to the next of your kin! I couldn't care less. That would only make lesser of you blond ones!"

Glorfindel believed him. "All right. We are spies."

Valdemar knelt and straddled Glorfindel. He grabbed his hair again with one hand and forced Glorfindel's head forward. With his other hand, the Berserker freed his erection and twisted Glorfindel's hair so painfully that the Elf yelped in pain. The next thing Glorfindel knew was that the red head's cock had been forced into his mouth.

"If you bite me, your friends will be killed," Valdemar threatened. Glorfindel was angry and close enough to just reach out, force the man to the ground, and suffocate the Berserker between his thighs. But then the Barbarians would kill them anyway within minutes. Glorfindel desperately tried to make eye contact with the Berserker fucking his mouth, but the man had his eyes closed. Then Valdemar's body jerked and Glorfindel was relieved thinking his tormentor had finished, but he hadn't. The man pulled out and got on his feet. He kicked Glorfindel's side.

"Move!" Glorfindel breathed raggedly and shuddered. Instantly, the Berserker smoothed the Elf's tunic to his waist exposing his naked lower body. Maximus hadn't given the Elves leggings because of the simple fact that the Romans hadn't realised that the Celts had invented trousers yet.

The Berserker caught his breath at the sight. He didn't really want to use the prisoners as spoils of war, but he had never in his wildest dreams imagined a sight as tempting as the body in front of him. Looking lustfully at the sweet twin dimples on either side of his captive’s slender, almost feminine pelvis, he licked his lips and without preparation or any other consideration, he took the blond as he lay on the ground. He ignored the enraged protests and just raped in frustrated desire. 

Glorfindel didn't try to avoid the rape since his flesh was the only thing he was letting his capturer abuse. But he still couldn't make eye contact and had to begin willing his mind to remove the physical discomfort and lift his soul to seek Maximus'. He willed his mind to relax and invite the Spaniard to take pleasure through him. Before he managed that, he knew Legolas, Haldir, and Maximus felt his ache and the knowledge made him weep.

Maximus heard Glorfindel's cries, and shortly after the Elf's pain expanded in his mind. He turned to watch Legolas who sat beside him. Legolas' cheeks were wet. He cried silently and his face winced almost instantly as was he the one being raped. Haldir's eyes were hard and Maximus had never seen so much hatred in his eyes. His whole body was as tense as Maximus felt his own was. Haldir gritted his teeth and dug his toes into the plane of his sandals. The general knew that if Haldir were capable of doing magic he'd explode of untamed fury if that would release Glorfindel from this brutal violation.

Legolas' eyes found his master's and suddenly they both had the same expression as they watched each other.

"He has left his body," Legolas whispered and managed to smile. For a second Maximus thought that the Elf meant that Glorfindel was dead, but then he felt the tall blond in his mind and the shock withdrew, gradually. The Elf was making love to them and Maximus received his pleasure wholeheartedly. He kept his gaze locked with Legolas'. The passion sizzled between them and helped heighten the sensation. By doing so, they hoped Glorfindel's agony would diminish.

Finally, Valdemar felt he had gotten what he wanted and left the tent and the captive. He went outside to inspect where the other prisoners were. He stood in front of them. One of the other blonds looked at him with so much contempt that Valdemar felt uneasy all of a sudden. They had to be fools if they didn't expect that pretty prisoners were dealt with this way.

He knelt in front of the hostile one, and traced his bottom lip with a finger. He slowly retrieved his finger. This wasn't an ordinary prisoner, but then spies seldom were. Somehow, he knew that this prisoner would make sure that only either he or Valdemar himself would survive this encounter - not the both of them. 

"Why do you bring spies with you, General?"

Maximus looked down. What was the Berserker talking about? He crooked his head and said, "They're not spies. They're slaves I bought in Rome."

Valdemar smiled amused. "Good one, General!"

Maximus smiled back. "Yeah. I thought that would amuse you." Then his smile faltered. "Either you believe me or not. I've told you the truth. That's all I have to say. I know nothing of them being spies."

Valdemar actually believed him. But he didn't believe the non-spy issue. He grabbed the front tunic of the pretty one in the middle and got him to his feet. He smoothed his scarf off and stood dumbstruck once more. How on earth was it possible for the general to be accompanied by so much beauty? This one also made Valdemar's blood quicken. Once more did his groin twitch in desire as it had with the other one in his tent. He let his fingers thread through the golden locks. Nice braids. Could fool anyone to believe this was a woman and not a man.

"Where are you from?" Valdemar asked.

Legolas shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he didn't understand Latin.

"Where are they from?" Valdemar demanded to know from Maximus.

"Middle Earth. A colony of Rome in the Northeast."

Valdemar smiled. "So they're with Attila's Hungarian mob? That's whom you're spying for?" He grabbed Legolas' hair and shook him.

Legolas moaned softly his pain.

"Let go of him, Barbarian!" Maximus demanded. "You're fumbling blindly. The Elves are a peaceful society. They know nothing of conspiracy. They know nothing of Attila."

"The other blond inside my tent admitted they were spies before he begged me to take him."

"You are truly a foul beast. If he admitted to anything I'm sure you forced him!"

"Oh, shut up, General. You bore me." Valdemar let go of the beautiful youth. Then he asked Maximus. 

"How old is he anyway?"

"They're both but children of fifth-teen years," Maximus lied and hoped this way to be able to protect the youngest Elves.

"Pity..." Valdemar stood and debated if that mattered or not. He decided it mattered for the time being and left the prisoners.

"We ride at dawn!" the Berserker commanded his men in his own tongue. He wanted to get back to head camp. The Romans had altered the border of the rivers Danube and the Rhine close up at their homeland in Germania. A brick wall had been built to emphasize the decision and the border was simply called 'Limes' which meant 'border´ in Latin. On the other side of 'Limes' the Toutonians were camped and that's where Valdemar would be heading with his men. They would bring the prisoners with them. He didn't know yet of what use he would have of them, so at some point he would probably have to kill them, if they became too much trouble. 

Legolas exhaled slowly and fell to the ground of a sudden exhaust. He looked at Maximus and sent a passionate sensation to his brain of sheer gratefulness. Maximus closed his eyes as the feeling surrounded him. "You're welcome," he mumbled.

Glorfindel still lay on the ground as Valdemar entered the tent. Something inside the capturer grew violent at the sight of the blond. He had to restrain himself from abusing the tantalizing blond again. He flung the tent flap open and yelled, "Alaviv!"

A nervous youth came forth and stood waiting for Valdemar's command, "Yes?"

"Remove him and fetch me some food and mead." 

Valdemar cast a glance at Glorfindel's body. The white skin already bruised with his fingerprints. Suddenly, he lowered the man's tunic to cover his private parts. He put his palm against a delicate jaw line and he knew that he regretted what he'd done. He regretted already while he was raping the man, but it had been too tempting with the easy access.

Alaviv returned with a couple of men; they grabbed the heavy prisoner and did their best to drag him out of Valdemar's tent. The Barbarian leader was relieved that he didn't have to watch the result of his actions anymore. 

"Heidrek!" Another of his turned to face his leader.

"You mustn't... make sure the prisoners are not harmed. You know what I mean." Heidrek knew what he meant, though he wondered why Valdemar would care.

Glorfindel moaned painfully as he was thrown to the ground beside Maximus who winced at the sight of his beloved. Glorfindel crawled to Maximus bit by bit and rested his head on the Spaniard's shoulder. Maximus hated the fact that he couldn't put his arms around the Elf to comfort him. He hated the fact that they had been captured so close to his home. He hated the fact that all his money was gone, and he hated the fact that he wouldn't see his family after all. He doubted that they'd survive this. He kissed Glorfindel's head. He turned to kiss Legolas' head too. He looked at Haldir, but the Elf seemed distant.

"Haldir?" he asked softly, and the other turned his head and looked at him. "How are you?" 

Haldir shook his head. "Not so good. I am too sad."

Legolas tried to stretch his back a bit, as Alaviv came over. The youth gestured Maximus to follow. He showed him a spot visibly used several times that day. A latrine. Maximus used the opportunity immediately. He wasn't shy having the boy help him. However, he knew the Elves would be embarrassed so he warned them when he returned.  
Haldir was furious when he returned and Legolas blushed. Glorfindel was indifferent. He just snuggled close to Maximus as soon he was back. 

Darkness came and they were still sitting around the tree. Surrounded by the Elves Maximus didn't feel cold. The Elves' bodies radiated heat and kept him warm, however their bums were numb from sitting all day.

Legolas' stomach growled. He was hungry. They all were. The Berserkers were munching on Maximus' supplies but apparently forgot to bring their prisoners food or they couldn't care less.

During the night, Maximus heard the Elves sigh very low. He knew they were having sex in their minds but had refrained from involving their master. He tried to figure out how many of them were involved when he saw Haldir's profile in the moonlight. He was unbelievably beautiful in his subtlety. 

Legolas bent to kiss him and Maximus could sense the Elf's frustration when he couldn't touch the other Sindarin. He now knew Glorfindel wasn't participating. The tall blond was much too quiet. His eyes were closed, which was odd and frightening. Close to panicking, the general used his shoulder to nudge the Elf.

"Please wake up, Glorfindel. Please don't leave us... I... I cannot live without you, my love!" he pleaded unaware that his affection was spoken aloud.

*~.:.~*

"He is all right, Master," Haldir whispered. Maximus turned his head to watch Haldir's face in the soft moonlight. He actually looked kindly at his master. "He is seeking his inner strength to get past what has been done to him." 

Then Haldir and Legolas shared a long look. Maximus felt a disturbance inside though it didn't feel directed towards him. He knew the Elves were up to something but he couldn't grasp what.

Then an Italian-speaking mercenary acting guard suddenly came to stand in front of them. "Yes?" the man asked.

Maximus frowned because he hadn't seen or heard any of them draw attention to themselves.

Legolas looked up to gain eye contact with the guard and smiled seductively. "If you feed us, I will personally reward you," he said and casting his spell on the man's mind the guard understood Legolas perfectly. 

Mesmerized, the guard gazed at the beautiful creature, and submissively yet hesitantly, he responded, "Um... we're not allowed to fraternize with you prisoners..." His longing to touch the Elf’s golden hair was almost comical.

"I will not tell anyone if you do not. And if I cannot satisfy you, my friend will continue your pleasure." Legolas looked at Haldir who also had a seductive expression in his eyes Maximus had never witnessed before, and it worried him. He looked at the guard but suddenly he realised that the man had begun untying Legolas.

"Untie my friend as well. Let him wrap his lips around your manhood and magic will happen." Legolas let his hand cup the guard's erection and whispered further more breathing hotly into the man's ear shell, as he offered a special bonus. "His arse is so tight you probably could not even put your pinky inside him..." The guard moaned softly pressing his arousal against Legolas' palm. He dared to steal a kiss from lush pink lips and then hurried to untie Haldir. 

The same instant the guard turned his back on Legolas his neck was snapped, and with a dull, 'thump' the mercenary's body sank to the ground. Legolas' eyes were blazing in triumph as he wiped his mouth staring at Haldir who stared back breathing heavily in excitement. Four Berserkers came up to them. They too had been lured by the waves of seduction sent out by Legolas and Haldir. 

For some reason they didn't notice the corpse lying before their feet at first, but the next three Barbarians did. Unfortunately, that had all of them snap out of the Elves' spell and after punishing Legolas and Haldir they were back to sitting tied up against the tree with Glorfindel and Maximus. The Spaniard sighed disappointed.

 _Damn..._ He closed his eyes. He was back to hating.

*~.:.~*

In the morning, Valdemar came to them, shook his head at the sight of split lips, and bruised limbs. He was actually very impressed about the whole escape attempt. He wouldn't have expected anything differently from exotic witch spies and Roman generals, so he didn't punish them any further. He noticed that the tall blond seemed remarkably better. Narrowing his eyes, he decided not to linger on the notion. He feared the need to take him again would emerge. Then, he commanded Alaviv to fetch some breakfast for the prisoners but not to untie their hands. 

_See how you manage that, General!_ Valdemar thought grinning.

Maximus offered to hold the bread loaves on his back and, in that awkward position, the Elves took turns eating out of his hands. Then Maximus ate from Legolas' hands. It wasn't so hard to drink the offered water as it came in a water skin.

After breakfast, they sat in silence watching how the Berserkers broke down the camp. They were going to move on, and Maximus and the Elves would have to move along with them.

Maximus glanced at Legolas who squatted. "What did you do in Middle Earth before you were caught?"

Surprised, Legolas looked at Maximus and then at Haldir whose left eyebrow was raised in amusement, and lastly at Glorfindel who just smiled tiredly. Apparently, they had discussed whether or not to inform Maximus on the matter.

"I am the crown prince of Mirkwood, Master." He bowed his head slightly and kissed Maximus gently. "Thank you for asking. I am honoured to tell you this."

Maximus was quiet in utter astonishment. Embarrassed, he looked at Legolas and realised the shocking fact that he had bought a royal Elf as his slave; the concept completely inappropriate. "And you, Haldir? What were you in your past?"

Haldir smiled. "I was the March Warden of Lothlórien." In addition, with an amused glint in his eye he added, ”Somewhere in the neighbourhood of a general, Master!” Maximus smiled back. This was close to being ridiculous. Then he turned to look at Glorfindel who had a lovingly expression in his eyes.

"And you, my dear?" 

Glorfindel took his time and finally he said, "I was the seneschal to My Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

"So you were a scholar?" Haldir and Legolas couldn't help themselves and laughed.

"What's so funny? I wasn't always a general. I'm also a farmer!"

"Ai, but..." Haldir chuckled instead. "Glorfindel is a mean warrior. You would not want him as your enemy if he had his weapons by him."

"But you all seemed fine with swords..."

"We are foremost archers. If we had had our bows we would never have been captured by these foul Barbarians, Master," Legolas said.

"Aha... you're that good?"

The Elves nodded in unison. "We're invincible. We would have killed every last one of them," Glorfindel said, quietly. Legolas and Haldir looked at him with adoration and deep respect, which made Maximus wonder what hid behind Glorfindel's lovely exterior. He dared not impose on his love and just graced the Elf's cheek. Glorfindel turned his head and kissed him briefly. Maximus smiled. He had never been kissed this much since he courted Marcellina. Being a tough general for so many years had ridden him of countless emotions, and he was actually grateful discovering that he still felt passion.

"How did you get captured then?" the general asked.

"We were sedated at a council gathering. Most of the lords of Middle Earth were taken prisoners by the Romans, including my Lord Elrond, and not knowing what has happened to him hurts me. I fear he was taken prisoner, too. Worse things could have happened, though, as he might have been killed. He has been my closest friend for so many millennia that I care not to count, but sedating us was the only way your Empire could get access to our lands," Glorfindel said with eyes filled of sadness at the thought.

"I can't even apologize, Glorfindel,” Maximus said. “Although I was not involved in conquering Middle Earth, I've certainly done my share of conquest throughout my military career," the general confessed. Silence fell on them, and Maximus spent a few minutes thinking about what the Elves had revealed to him.

Valdemar came to them and forcefully pulled them to stand on their feet. "We're moving soon,” he informed them. “You will each ride a horse with your hands tied in the front. Explain it to the kids." 

Maximus nodded and was barely able to conceal the smile that was threatening to spread on his face.

"Kids?" Glorfindel asked Maximus puzzled.

"Hush," Haldir whispered in warning.

Being tied to their own horses, they moved on with Valdemar's men. They were separated and each of them rode surrounded by Barbarians which prevented them from communicating, except Maximus knew that the Elves had to be busy exchanging thoughts non-stop. He sincerely hoped they were capable of coming up with a plan because Maximus had recognized where the road was heading and panic began to fill his heart. They were heading towards his home.

The familiar fields and meadows parted by cypresses were coming up too soon, telling Maximus how close they had travelled the next day. A few farms lying too close to the Berserker’s path were instantly plundered and the inhabitants carelessly murdered or raped. Nobody was left alive. The Elves cried at the innocent bloodshed, and Maximus felt so cold and helpless inside because, past midday, they would pass his own home. He was aware that the Elves knew. There was no way they could not. His face was an open book as was his thoughts. Soon, they would reach the part where the road turned before the hill and then his dear family would curiously approach the Barbarians in the hope that they might finally be Maximus returning home.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Spaniard saw Haldir discretely biting in the knot of the rope tying his hands. He noticed Legolas doing the same. Glorfindel didn't move a muscle, and Maximus realised the Elf's ropes were missing. When Valdemar and his men noticed Maximus' farm they yelled excitedly, looking forward to yet again have their vengeance at the 'Romans'. Somehow, they completely forgot their prisoners behind. Maximus was certain he could thank the Elves for that. Before long, the foursome was closing in on the Berserkers and had ridded seven men of their swords and lives. Then they did their best to hinder the Barbarians' determination to burn down Maximus' buildings. Working together the way they had done so well a few days ago, the foursome soon had slain more than half of Valdemar's men. Constantly, they hid themselves in between they came forward to kill yet a handful of Berserkers. Maximus feared for the lives of his family and workers, but he stood no chance trying to save them as long as the Berserkers still outnumbered them.

In the end, when they came forward for the last time, the place was too quiet. No screams or noises except for the fire burning away a barn. Approaching the farmhouse, they were met by the ugly sight of Valdemar raping Marcellina. 

The Elves made short work of the men who had stood watching and probably thought they were next to have a go at the woman. Maximus concentrated on getting Valdemar away from his wife while Haldir guarded him.

Maximus fell on his knees in front of his wife whom he'd missed for so long. His eyes filled with tears of unjust at the sight of her beautiful frame exposed this way. Gently, the general covered the body of his beautiful spouse. He'd come so far and gone through so much only to come home and find his wife like this? Marcellina tried to say something, but her words were incoherent. Maximus put his ear to her mouth. 

"L-let...it...b-be...done," she stuttered with much difficulty. Understanding nothing he frowned his forehead and whispered, panicking, "What my love? What did you say? I don't understand!" He kissed her lips as if to make her words more comprehensible. He looked at her through tear filled eyes, but her gaze was expressionless as life quickly was replaced by death. Maximus realised she had been stabbed in the gut. The blood loss had made her pass away. Holding her body close had made his wife's blood soak the front of his own clothing the crimson shade of death. 

The general slowly let go of her and turned to face the others. The Elves had a strange expression on their faces. They had probably heard what she said, but he doubted they knew the meaning either. He could also gather the sight of his poor wife was too disturbing, as they all suddenly looked away. He went to stand beside the Berserker who lay on his back awaiting his death. Legolas and Glorfindel went outside. Haldir turned to Valdemar watching him intensely as the Elf towered over him. The Berserker knew this was judgement day. He was finally going to Valhalla, and drink mead at the high table of Thor. Looking at Haldir, he just grabbed the Elf's sword to pull it harder when the stab came. Maximus took the sword from him and in one swift move beheaded his enemy. Then he threw away his weapon, where it hit the closet standing against the wall not far from them. He fell to the ground again and began crying in rage and despair.

A sudden noise had the Elf turn. The noise came from the closet. Haldir neared with his sword drawn. He opened the closet with a swift yank and found the young serf Alaviv inside. He was hurt and just fell on the floor curling and trying to protect himself from the expected lethal blow. Haldir hesitated. Alaviv was harmless; a brutalized young man forced to obey the Barbarian leader. He decided to give the serf a chance to prove his worth. The blond addressed him and willed his mind to understand him.

"How did you end with the Berserkers?"

Alaviv sobbed in dread and looked at the tantalizing man in front of him. He stuttered at first, but decided he had to pull himself together and said the most important thing in his entire life, "I have no home or family since my village was burned and plundered. I’ve been with the Berserkers for half a year, and I've worked hard and survived. I swear..." He looked pleading at Haldir and got on his knees. "I beg of you. I will work hard till my hands are bleeding. Please don't kill me. I can serve you anyway you like..." 

Horrified Haldir interrupted the young man. He'd heard enough. He embraced the trembling body and hushed his cries. He tried hard to push away the thought of how viciously the young Celt had been treated by the Berserkers. Then the Elf remembered that Alaviv was hurt, and he tended his wounds. "Do not fret. We will not harm innocent ones. You can stay with us." He kissed the boy's forehead and stroked his hair until he felt his body was less tense. Meanwhile, Haldir watched how the returned Glorfindel and Legolas tried to comfort their Master's grief over the loss of his wife and son whom they'd found outside the burning barn.

Later that night, they sat around the large wooden table dominating the kitchen. They had retrieved what was left of the provision belonging to the Berserkers and Maximus' original goods. The Barbarian corpses were piled in the courtyard. Only Maximus' family and workers had been buried. It had taken all afternoon for the Elves and Alaviv. Maximus had been sitting numb in the kitchen ever since. Tomorrow, they would make pyres to get rid of the Valdemar and his men.

Glorfindel came to Maximus and sat beside him on the bench positioned along the broad side of the table. He turned the general to sit sideways on the bench. He then spooned him and started kissing his neck sliding his hands across his chest. Maximus sighed deeply. He hardly acknowledged who it was until Glorfindel filled his mind sighing. Maximus jerked and his hands sought Glorfindel's. The Elf nibbled at his lover's earlobe.

"I love you, Maximus," he whispered knowing quite well the timing was bad, but that was all he had to comfort his devastated master. "I'll do anything to comfort you. Anything." He kissed Maximus' neck. The Spaniard turned and practically crawled on Glorfindel's lap. He welcomed the hungry kiss from the sweet Elven mouth. They kissed a few minutes and then parted. Without a word, Maximus took the blond's hand and led him upstairs.

Left in the kitchen were Legolas, Haldir, and young Alaviv who could barely contain what he'd just witnessed. Haldir looked up and caught the frightened gaze of the young Dane.

"Do not fret. We do not intend to abuse you. You are much too young. Why do you not find a place to rest?" Alaviv exhaled relieved and did as he was told. Then Haldir turned to look at Legolas who tiredly looked back. The two Elves rose to their feet and embraced silently a few minutes.

"Do you still think of him, my friend?" 

"Ai, I grieve still. I would have given..."

"Hush, it cannot be altered anymore. He had already past away." Legolas let his lips trace Haldir's mouth and smiled as slippery wetness nudged and asked permission to dip inside. Haldir smiled back and their tongues duelled a few seconds before mouths and teeth clashed unmercifully. They sank to the floor. Haldir gasped wantonly and offered his backside to Legolas. As Legolas penetrated him, he cried his pain and grief pushing back to meet his friend's every powerful thrusts. Legolas ground Haldir down to the floor making sure Haldir felt as much as possible. He feared the Lothlórien native was going to lose his mind, shortly. 

 

*~.:.~*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Of course, the Elves’ Sindarin, Maximus' Spanish-Italian, and Hephaestion's Greek are incompatible but forget that please. They do understand each other.   
> Laiqualasse is the Quenya written form of Legolas.

*~.:.~* 

 

 

In the morning, Haldir and Legolas sat outside the house watching the rise of the sun. Haldir snuggled into Legolas' embrace as they leaned against the whitewashed wall. The light was breathtakingly beautiful, and Haldir wept yet again, as he had done the entire night while guarding the farm with Legolas. Only the barn had been burned. The rest of the buildings were intact. There were no other survivors other than themselves and Alaviv. The young man was bright but frightened of nature due to the violence he’d experienced in his young life, and yet he seemed to be more than willing to help rebuild the barn he told them, when he stepped outside to greet them half an hour ago offering them pancakes he had made himself for breakfast. Luckily, the harvest was not yet in house or it would have been burned, too. So, there was a lot of work ahead of them. Haldir was glad to find an outlet to work out his grieving. Legolas embraced him tightly and kissed him fondly. They loved kissing each other and did it as often as they felt like. Legolas went inside Haldir's mind and soon Haldir whimpered, pressing against Legolas' crotch. Legolas gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. They both moaned wantonly as sensations overloaded their minds. When they came, they had completely lost contact to the real world. Breathing heavily, they clung to each other as Haldir kissed Legolas affectionately.

"Thank you for always knowing when I need comfort, Princeling."

Legolas smoothed loose strands of silver blonde hair from Haldir's face. "I know, Haldir," he whispered as his hand sought under Haldir's garment. Shortly after, Haldir had Legolas' long legs wrapped around his waist, willingly letting Haldir thrust into his pliant body. Legolas let him pull off his tunic and erect nipples emerged immediately in the cool breeze of the early autumn morning. Haldir kissed each bud thoroughly, making Legolas moan passionately.

"Ai! Haldir!" 

They sought eye contact and Legolas' eyelids were heavy from desire, driving Haldir's passion with him. Endearments passed between them in their silent language; only their eyes spoke. Then the Princeling licked Haldir's pointed ear and that was his undoing. Shuddering, Haldir came, crushing Legolas' body close to his. His soul expanded as Legolas accessed his mind, letting both of them experience the combined joy of their comfort. They held on to each other for a while, just listening to the peaceful sound of their heartbeat and the song of birds still lingering before seeking warmer climes for the winter. 

Upstairs in the bedroom Maximus awoke. He couldn't really grasp where he was but then recognized his own bedroom. The shock from yesterday threatened to take over, but soothing hands lulled him to relax. He felt a soft wet mouth on his morning erection and soon he gave in to Glorfindel's skilled tongue. Last night, he had had sex with him once more, and it hurt him to realise how much he had needed that despite the fact that his beautiful son and wife had just been ripped from him. He simply did not dare ask the threesome if he - meaning the Roman conquest - had ripped them from their families, but he would today when they had gotten the corpses out of sight and made plans for winding up the harvest. He remembered he had thought he couldn't count on the Elves helping around the farm. Now he understood he only had them to rely on, and that they weren’t as fragile as he initially imagined. Maximus was truly grateful for everything they were offering. Glorfindel's satisfied suckling noises made him smile. He lifted the blanket to watch the beautiful sight of the Elf's lips around his eager cock in the darkness underneath. Gradually, he began thrusting and moaning softly. He grabbed Glorfindel's ponytail and a distinct urge to be taken welled up inside him. He retreated from Glorfindel's warm cavern with an audible pop. "Take me lover. I need to belong to you." 

Glorfindel hesitated for a second, but then he resolutely took Maximus on his lap. Maximus spread his thighs widely and felt Glorfindel's hands slide caressingly down his spine, touching the rippling muscles of the strong and handsome Spaniard. Then the ancient warrior grabbed the General's buttocks and squeezed them fondly.

Maximus grasped Glorfindel's hair and released the braided ponytail. The strands reached Glorfindel's backside and Maximus loved the feel and sight of the masses of flaxen spun tresses. He inhaled deeply the clean scent of the Elf and gasped as one of the Glorfindel’s fingers found his entrance. The sensation was strange, but looking at the Elf’s charming expression, Maximus couldn't help but smile. The General shivered at the thought of what it would really mean to the two of them afterwards. To which extent would he become Glorfindel's pleasure slave as Haldir had put the term?

The unfamiliar feeling of the Elf’s fingers sliding in and out of his body, as Glorfindel's expectations filled his mind, soon took over Maximus’ hesitations on every level. He noticed how easy the other’s access inside of him had become. He had no idea how many digits were working to stretch and prepare him for his lover, and he didn't care either until Glorfindel withdrew them. 

"No..." he objected with a throaty voice. Glorfindel lifted his head and kissed him as he lifted Maximus' rear a bit. Maximus felt a short sharp sting and then he was filled in a completely different satisfying way as the fingers had felt. Glorfindel's face was indescribable. He looked like he was hurting and when his mind filled Maximus' he realised that the Elf was hurting tremendously. The blonde was unable to keep the pain inside and cried. Yet, he continued to penetrate Maximus gradually till he was completely sheathed inside Maximus' tight heat. They were both panting, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Why are you hurting, too, and not only I?" Maximus asked, worriedly.

"I-I am physically sharing your sorrow. I have lost so few dear ones throughout my long life that I have forgotten what the pain of heartache and sorrow feels like," Glorfindel whispered. He gritted his teeth and winced as Maximus vainly tried to stop the sobs from leaving his chest. Glorfindel cradled Maximus' head and kissed him languidly through their shared pain. "I love you so much it scares me, Maximus," Glorfindel confessed. Then he began moving inside his beloved. Maximus held on to Glorfindel's arms and closed his eyes. Glorfindel's eyes were too intense with pain and desire. They only made the shared feelings multiply inside Maximus and he needed to protect himself and Glorfindel from the emotions. He concentrated on breathing evenly. Enjoying the alien feeling of Glorfindel slowly sliding his cock back and forth his ring muscle took all his concentration and the painful feeling lessened. He closed his mouth and breathed through his nose, his lungs inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. Grabbing the heavy headboard of the master bed, Maximus began moaning softly at Glorfindel's short rocking. 

Glorfindel put his own hands on Maximus' hips. Then he began delivering long thrusts hoping that humans were in the possession of a swollen pleasure centre when aroused. He only had to grace Maximus’ prostate once, then he knew. The surprised sound that escaped his lover's throat was exactly what Glorfindel had anticipated. Maximus opened his eyes, and the expression within them filled the Elf’s heart with a mixture of pain and sensations that threatened to break his heart. He stopped thrusting a few seconds, and they just looked at each other in wonder. Maximus shuddered, waiting for when his love would pick up the rewarding rhythm. He stopped breathing, and watched. His knuckles turned white as he grabbed the headboard harder. Beads of sweat slid down his temples, neck, and chest.

Glorfindel grabbed the general's hips brutally hard and ground his cock deeper inside the Spaniard. Maximus shouted at the unexpected movement and then breathed raggedly. Stars burst behind his eyes as he squeezed them shut once more and Glorfindel's sounds, scent, and touch took over his mind. Liquid white heat filled his entire spirit as exquisite pleasure completely took control. He managed to open his eyes just once to see Glorfindel breathing heavily with his head flung back and his loose hair framing his beautiful youthful face in a wild untamed manner. Having never seen a more erotic sight, Maximus ran his hands up the enticing ribcage, and tugged at the taut nipples. Glorfindel hissed and leaned back a fraction still, to make Maximus pull more purposefully. Carefully, the Elf moaned and writhed. Maximus let go and felt the blonde's hand on his member beginning to pump him. The general bit his lip and met every thrust. As they neared completion, Glorfindel finally felt that the pain was only half as powerful and he was capable of slowing down; he even breathed more freely. Thrusting more leisurely, he could finally spill his essence inside the Spaniard and at last he felt Maximus' soul seep inside his own. They were one body as his lover cried his own release shortly after. Gently withdrawing, Glorfindel then pushed the man on his back and carefully covered him with his own shaking body.

"Are you well, my love?" Maximus' glazed green eyes were non-informative and Glorfindel smiled at his dazed lover. "Maximus?" He shook him lightly, and finally it looked as if the human was back.

"What will happen next?" Maximus asked, just a tiny bit afraid after all. 

"I do not know that either. But we are inseparable from now on," the Vanya Elf replied. 

Maximus let that bit of information sink in and then said, "I'd like that, too." He was sated, and felt like a lot of the pain had lifted from his heart. 

They both jerked as Legolas and Haldir's cries reached them, then they both relaxed and enjoyed the unexpected orgasm.

"Glorfindel?" The Elf was about to leave the bed when Maximus let the fine, blonde hair run between his fingers like sand until it all rested against Glorfindel's back. "Did you leave a family behind when you where captured?" 

Glorfindel looked at him with his gentle eyes. Tears filled the beautiful orbs.

"Nay. Fortunately, the family I had is no longer alive to witness the horrific treatment of our lands."

"Will you reveal to me what happened to them?" 

Glorfindel became distant as if he was searching for the information. "I only had a spouse. No children. Vile Orcs attacked my beloved. Orcs are creatures of danger we always must look out for. They hunt us down just for the purpose of doing so. I survived the sorrow but only barely."

"I believe Orcs were mentioned in one of my reports from last year. Not many left I’m told."

Glorfindel just nodded. "My love was killed while he was guarding the borders of Rivendell, or Imladris as the Sindar call it." 

Maximus smiled. "And when was that?" 

Glorfindel just shook his head. So many millennia had passed since the death of his soul mate that Maximus wouldn't be able to grasp the concept of it yet.

"I'm glad you shared that with me." Glorfindel nodded curtly and slid down the bed to step out of it. Maximus followed the Elf's beautiful presence as he wandered about exploring the sparsely furnished bedroom.

"Would it be possible to change clothes, Maximus? I feel filthy."

Maximus smiled and pointed at the closet while scratching his black short hair. "Take what you need. Legolas and Haldir are welcome to change, too. And the Barbarian lad certainly needs to be introduced to bathing!" They both smiled.

The morning had changed to midday when the five males stood looking at the many Berserkers still lying in piles on the ground. They had gathered as much wood as possible and now they began arranging the enemy bodies on the pyres. Soon the flames consumed the dead and Maximus and his friends just stood for a while, watching emotionlessly as the bodies were consumed by fire, each weeping for personal reasons provoked by the situation. Maximus grieved yet again for the loss of his family and he felt the others did the same for themselves. He had personally arranged his family's pyres and this was the final farewell.

Suddenly, an eagle erupted through the smoky sky and circled above them. The bird looked as if it was looking for a place to land as it began to dive. Legolas reached out with his arm and the eagle landed gracefully and began to polish its feathers. No one said a word. They didn't have to. They had encountered the same eagle on their way out of Rome. Alaviv was alarmed at the spectacle that a bird of prey would suddenly behave so domesticated, but at the same time, he was fascinated and would ask Legolas permission to touch the bird later.

Maximus approached the fair Mirkwood Elf and noticed how regal he looked all of a sudden. 

"My father has been calling for me," the blonde said looking into the eagle's stern gaze. "He needs my help to free our lands."

Maximus nodded and closed his eyes. He would never ask Legolas to stay. He hated the thought already, but alas. Instead, he mumbled, "Then perhaps we should all leave this godforsaken place and join you, your Royal Highness."

Legolas shared a glance with the other Elves. The bird stirred slightly before it regained its balance. "None of us can go back. We have been captured and as such considered dead to our people. We would be considered spirits to whom our kin must turn their backs on. They would never believe we were alive. Going back would break my heart. I cannot help no matter how my heart aches wanting me to, Master. So there is no point in us returning to our homes if only to be emotionally executed. We might as well stay with you and produce something useful. We have a death world but it is for when we truly die. Glorfindel once died and went to the Halls of Mandos but returned. Glorfindel's return was universally accepted and he could continue his life. However, that was millennia ago. Times are different, Master. Superstition has weaved fear into the hearts of Elven society, especially since the Romans captured our lands. I have watched it happen to other Elves, and I am guilty in having acted upon it towards someone else. Now that I am in the same position, I am filled with shame."

Maximus nodded in comprehension. “Did you leave any loved ones behind when you were captured?"

Legolas shared a quick look with Glorfindel, who nodded. "Ai, Master." He inhaled with a surprisingly vulnerable shiver. "I had a wife and three children. And of course my father King Thranduil."

Maximus frowned. He had never considered Legolas a married man, really. Still judging him by his looks, he found it difficult to imagine him a thousand years old – well, any creature on earth to be that age. "How do you feel about being a mere ghost in the eyes of your own wife?"

"It is not my wife I miss. It was an arranged marriage for me to produce heirs. I miss my girls," Legolas said, sadly.

Maximus smiled fondly. "Girls? All girls?"

Legolas understood where his Master was going and smiled, too. "Ironic is it not? Three girls and still no heir!" Legolas turned sad again. "I miss them so much. They were the light of my life. Now I'm nothing to them." Glorfindel put an arm around his friend and kissed his hair.

Saddened, Maximus then turned to ask Haldir who seemed busy picking leaves out of Alaviv's hair. Alaviv put his arms around the Elf, and Maximus didn't know what to think of the affectionate display between the Elf and the youth; it didn’t sit well with him, that was for certain. Approaching them a tad too quickly, Maximus received a warning stare from Haldir. That would not do at all, and Maximus felt his level of tolerance with the Elf had reached its limit. 

"Haldir! Inside. Now!" The general went ahead to his study awaiting the disobeying slave.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Inside the room, Maximus paced the wooden floor until a soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter!" he commanded as he faced the door, legs slightly spread and his arms folded behind his back looking ever the general in his stance. Haldir closed the door softly behind him and went to stand so close to Maximus that the man could have slapped the Elf to the ground for his mocking behaviour. They glared angrily at each other for several moments, and neither of them blinked. Their hearts were beating fast and their breathing reacted to it.

"Despite of what you said, Haldir, you have never accepted your position here. I grow weary of you and your attitude. I can understand it is hard for you, as you had once been in a high commanding officer, to sink lower. But trust me on this, there can only be ONE general in this house, Haldir. So you'd better start fucking working on that attitude."

"So you think you can just make me, _Master_?" Haldir spat. He was shaking in fury.

"What are your plans for the young boy?" Maximus demanded to know. 

Haldir's eyes changed, instantly. "Boy? He's a young man soon coming of age, but I suppose you would see any serf as childish, immature and stupid, general." Haldir turned and headed for the door.

"I'm not through with you, slave," Maximus dared him.

Haldir stopped, and then he moved faster than Maximus could register. A moment later, the Elf smacked him across the face so hard that Maximus stumbled away several feet before falling to the ground.

"Leave my property, immediately," Maximus rasped in cold anger.

"If I go, they go with me. Be sure of that."

Maximus closed his eyes. His head hurt, and he had black spots before his eyes. He tried to get up but couldn't. Mentally, he reached out to Glorfindel but there was no contact.

Turning around, Haldir went to the door, and looking over his shoulder, he hissed back at the human, "If you ever lay your hands on Glorfindel again I swear I will kill you, Master." Then he left the Spaniard to his own misery.

Some time went by and nothing happened. Maximus was finally clear enough in the head to get up without falling back to the floor. Dragging himself to his chair, he sat panting in pain. His head was throbbing and he felt slightly nauseous. He wondered where the Elves were and he couldn't figure out how much time had passed since Haldir had hit him. The twilight came announcing the day had gone by. Maximus still sat on the chair in deep thought. A soft knock on the door didn't even stir his thoughts. When soft hands stroked his cheek, he had difficulty registering the difference. "Marcellina..." he whispered. Her scent filled his mind with joy, and he let her take him to their bed. Under the covers, he soon felt warm and safe. Her pliant body moulded ever so warm against his and he was soon asleep.

When Maximus woke up, he felt better. He sat up but regretted it immediately as the throbbing headache came back. As he tried to focus, he noticed it was daytime, and he remembered that his wife had been there. Then he frowned and sadness overcame him. He wept for a while for the cruel passing of his family. He felt soft hands on his naked body and he realised he wasn't alone in the bed. Turning, he saw Glorfindel and they sought each other's embrace and hugged for a while, seeking comfort and closeness.

"What happened to you?" the tall blonde inquired.

"Haldir hit me on the head," Maximus just mumbled.

"Did you hit him back?" Glorfindel asked.

Maximus snorted. "Like that was even likely. But no, I collapsed like a sack of wheat and he left me there.” Then he sat up carefully. "Why?"

"He and Alaviv are gone, Maximus. I fear for the young man's life. Haldir is not well."

"That's an understatement, Elf," Maximus mumbled, tiredly. He rubbed his temples and slowly crawled out of bed. He walked to and fro and, from time to time, he stood in front of the Elf only to turn away and continue his pacing.

"Master?" Legolas' musical voice was heard from the bottom of the stairs. 

Glorfindel approached the top of the staircase and asked, "Laiqualasse! How are you?"

"May I join you upstairs?"

"Where is the bird?"

"Feasting on the pyres..." He began climbing the stairs. Once he was with the others, he was pulled into a warm embrace. He looked relieved somehow.

"How are you, Legolas?" Glorfindel asked again kissing his beautiful temple.

"I am well considering everything. Do not worry about me. However, I do fear for Haldir. He is hurting so much."

"Do you know where he is?" Maximus inquired.

Legolas nodded. "He is downstairs."

"So he returned? And Alaviv?"

"He is also downstairs. Unhurt," Legolas added knowing that would be their next question.

"Missed me?" Glorfindel whispered looking fondly at the beautiful prince. Maximus watched intrigued as the Elves kissed each other longingly and erotically. He gradually closed in and, being the third tongue in the rapidly heated kiss, desire shot through him. Legolas jolted away and stared confusedly at them.

"You... you have had Master!?" He looked at them one at a time. His gorgeous eyes turned liquid and he approached them again grabbing their hands.

"Ai... the general asked me to take him last morning. Now, we're all connected through me," Glorfindel concluded. 

Legolas looked at Maximus, the glittery eyes in constant emotional dilation. "Your soul is amazing. I-I..." He could not finish his sentence. It was impossible to impose.

Glorfindel looked down. "It is too late, Legolas. We are in love now."

Maximus suddenly realised what the delicacy of the problem was. "What if I was in love with Legolas?"

"That is a completely different matter," Glorfindel said. "I do not know the human kind that well, Master. If you are in love with Legolas, I suppose we could handle the emotional circumstances if he took you as well..." He looked up at the Spaniard and asked with a voice heavy with uncertainty, "Are you in love with both of us?"

Maximus neared the shorter fine-looking Elf and traced his jaw with both thumbs stopping at the adorable dimpled cheeks. He lowered his lips and felt the Elf melt under his grasp. The warmth surrounding them both filled his soul. He had forgotten how wonderful this particular Elf felt to the touch. Legolas almost devoured him. Maximus let his mind go free only to feel Glorfindel catch him before he fell into the void that was Legolas' raw soul.

What he caught a glimpse of before he emerged was an amazing open and vulnerable vortex of passion and emotions so fully on display. He was begging his master to reach out and possess. Stunned he let go of the blonde. What he discovered was that he was in lust with Legolas but in love with Glorfindel. Things were bound to be complicated. Only now he feared Glorfindel might be jealous.

 _No, Master. I am not,_ he heard Glorfindel's voice thick with desire in his mind.

Maximus looked at him a little hurt. "Why did you call me Master?" 

Glorfindel was self-conscious all of a sudden. "I apologize..."

"Stop fucking behaving different all of a sudden!" Maximus had to sit down after his sudden outburst. Sometimes, being around these three Elves was more exhausting than commanding hundreds of men in battle. Quickly, the Elves glanced in the general's direction, and Maximus realised he had raised his voice. "Sorry. My head's spinning." Then the Elves left him to let him have some quiet time of his own.

Downstairs the two Elves greeted Haldir who sat unable to move as he had willingly let Legolas tie him to a chair before he went upstairs. Alaviv sat on the kitchen bench eating, unaffected by the whole commotion between the others. Nevertheless, when he realised the Elves were suddenly behind him, he got the scare of his life. He never heard them come downstairs.

Haldir was meek as an Elfling as Glorfindel loosened his bonds, and Legolas embraced him affectionately. All three Elves stood in another tight embrace shutting Alaviv out. They whispered comforting words and touched each other. Haldir wept. He was so low-spirited that his sadness worried the others immensely.

"Is there not anything we can do within our ability to cheer you up, my friend?" Legolas asked. If Haldir began to fade, he knew he would follow soon. Glorfindel might survive because of his strong love to their Master, though.

"My dearest friends," Haldir mumbled. He immediately got a well longed for kiss from Legolas' sweet lips. Then he got a much longer and thorough kiss from Glorfindel that had him curl his toes with desire. Legolas smiled satisfied as he closed his eyes and let the triple sensation wash over him.

Alaviv just stared at them. The sight of males in obvious pleasure was not new to him. He had witnessed it so many times with the Barbarians. However, he had never seen them behave as if they actually loved one another. He closed his eyes. If only Haldir would have him. He had approached him several times, but Haldir had not wanted him. He said he was protecting him and wouldn’t take advantage of a boy on the verge to become a man in need of kindness. Alaviv rose and went outside. He was beginning to measure what was to be done on this farm so ripe and bursting with the need to be harvested. He couldn't really blame the men that no action had been initiated to begin work at the place. Too many shocking ordeals had occurred too quickly, too recently. Yet, this place Alaviv knew everything about. He was a farmer and had been raised to farm the land before the Berserkers enslaved him. He decided to make some use of himself. What else was there for him to do?

Next morning, Alaviv dared to approach Maximus. He trusted Glorfindel to translate and Maximus was pleasantly surprised by what the young man had to say. He rose to his feet and went with the other four males outside to inspect the lands.

Haldir held a sensible distance from his Master as they still weren’t on talking terms, but Maximus sensed that Haldir would come to him when the time was right, and that made him glad. Until then, they stayed out of each other's way. Legolas had delivered an apology for his friend, but Maximus replied that Haldir should do it himself. Legolas shrugged, clearly uncomfortable being the middleman for two grown-ups. He spent a lot of time trying to train the eagle to help him hunt. Feeling a strong attachment to the bird, he was in no doubt that the bird was connected to him, too. Sometimes, when he spent minutes staring into the animal's black eyes, he felt as if he could see the very soul of the bird, as if the eagle had lived an eternity and needed to rest. He closed his eyes when the depths became too much alike his own misery. The memories would destroy him, if he let them.

Alaviv had done a marvellous job. Haldir was so proud of his young charge. Who would have thought he would be the one to jumpstart the harvest, when Haldir himself and the three others had been incapable of planning one day ahead?

Soon the harvesting took place, and neighbours who had noticed the pyres the days before came and, surprised, found the oddly assembled people on Maximus' farm. Help was offered and soon life hummed everywhere on the property. The barns were rapidly filled with olives, grapes, wheat, and several donations of sausages, butter, hens, a pig, and a cow. All the animals that had thrived on the farm had been slaughtered by the Barbarians' berserk raid. Some maids from a farm north of Maximus' property had offered to come and squeeze the grapes during the week, so there would also be wine this autumn. Maximus was so touched by the amount of kindness shown to him. He sat one afternoon looking at the lovely girls with their skirts wound up turning the delicious grapes into juices with their bare feet. They were stepping round and round in a large wooden vat. Suddenly, Maximus realised that one of the 'girls' was Haldir with his scarf tied around his hair. The girls were very noisy and flirtatious. Haldir seemed actually happy for the few hours he took part in the joyous task. When he indicated that he was getting out from the vat, the general came to him and offered his hand to help the Elf steady himself. Haldir rested his hands on Maximus' chest.

"I apologize, Master," he mumbled. Maximus just nodded and led him inside to wash the sticky juice off his body. Together they shared a bath, taking the time to comfort each other. It was as close as Maximus possibly could get to him. They had never been close, but it was a start and he was willing to forget. He was certain Haldir was, too.

"Who did you leave behind, Haldir? You have been grieving ever since I met you," Maximus asked, finishing hoi round

Haldir's eyes met his. He slowly let go of the scarf that had kept his hair out of the water. It was a gorgeous silver blond, shining in the right shades to almost look white. The hair reached down nearly to the middle of his shoulders. Apparently, he didn't wear it as long as Glorfindel and Legolas, who both could sit on their hair when they let it loose. Haldir gradually moved closer to Maximus in the tub. He had most certainly come to a decision, because suddenly he crawled onto Maximus' lap. His thighs slid wet and sensuously on top of Maximus'.

"You don't have to do this..."

"Do not start this argument again. This time it is different. You and I have changed, too, although you belong to Glorfindel. Soon, you will belong to Legolas when you let him take you. Let me at least belong to you, Master. Take pleasure in my body." And with those words their lips sealed the silent pact they were committing themselves to. 

Their lips parted with a subtle succulent wet sound. Haldir felt the hard member of his Master gliding in the crack of his buttocks. He loved the feeling that was desirously his. When he was ready, he would let it intrude his inner soul where only Legolas and Glorfindel had ever been before. 

He doubted the two other Elves even knew they had taken his virginity in turn in the house of the general's friend Tarquini. Haldir knew he could be seduction on two legs when he wanted to be, but that didn't mean he was experienced in the art of lovemaking. First, he had let Legolas seduce him. The Woodland Elf had had easy access. Legolas was so beautiful that in the end, Haldir would have begged him on his knees. Legolas had been mad with desire having Glorfindel's passionate lovemaking to the general in his head. Then Glorfindel had taken one look at Haldir's flushed cheeks when he came back from Maximus’ bedchamber, and Legolas went to their Master's bedroom. Glorfindel's lovemaking had been different. Slow, attentive, and not rushing due to the depths of his desire and experience. None of them had thought of asking Haldir if he was actually experienced or not. He'd just let them take his virginity. 

He suddenly shuddered. Maximus ceased kissing the Elf's lips and looked at him.

"I...am..." Haldir stopped but then he confessed, "I was a virgin, Master."

Maximus paid attention and waited patiently knowing something important was happening.

"I lost my virginity, recently. To them; they did not know I was untouched."

"You were a virgin up till you were handed over to the Roman slave dealer?"

Haldir nodded and looked down.

"Oh, my God!" Maximus mumbled. "How old are you?"

"520 years, Master." Maximus tried to compare Haldir's age to Legolas' thousand and Glorfindel's several thousands. He shook his head. Poor Haldir. So full of need; so full of unrequited love.

"Are you in love with Legolas?"

"Nay... I mean... I love him dearly. I always will. Nay, I... fell in love with Cicero."

"CICERO?" Maximus couldn't help exclaiming out loud.

Haldir nodded sliding his hands over his Master's well-built chest, enjoying the feeling of his engorged cock protruding against his skin. "Will you love me if I ask you to?" he whispered.

Maximus had a hard time processing the information. Cicero and Haldir? The signs of Haldir's affection had been there, even if Cicero had tried to avoid him. Getting through grieving for Cicero's passing must have been painful for the young infatuated Elf, who had hidden it well behind an arrogant expression.

"Yes, my dear. I will love you as you deserve to be loved."

Haldir smiled; his beauty was uncanny, and Maximus just sat there looking at him. "But Haldir," he said quietly, "if you're that young, how can you have had such a high rank?"

"Concerning warfare, I am a natural. My Lord and Lady of the Golden Woods have always had tremendous faith in me, and I have more than a hundred years of experience already," Haldir whispered, leaning in for a kiss. Maximus held him even tighter and the kiss deepened naturally. Haldir let Maximus' tongue come visiting, and he moaned at the taste of his Master. He let go of the man's lips, breathing hard and shakily.

"Are you well, Haldir?"

Haldir smiled dizzily and caressed his Master's short dark brown hair. He so wished the general would grow long hair and said so.

Maximus smiled and laughed out loud. "Sweet Haldir. That was a lovely thought. You would like to see me with long hair?"

Completely honest Haldir nodded and said yes with so much yearning, that Maximus stopped laughing.

"Very well, I will then." He kissed Haldir sliding his hands down the young Elf's slick body and cupped his buttocks. Haldir moaned wantonly and pressed his erection against Maximus' stomach. The Spaniard pushed a finger inside Haldir's body - just the two first knuckles but it was enough for Haldir's breath to turn into panting.

"I am so excited, Master. You can enter safely me, though,” he moaned expectantly.

Maximus understood and, judging by Haldir's desire-glazed eyes, he was ready and knew how to receive him. His unruly hair fell across his face and his hands dug inside the mop of strands and pulled them sensuously while moaning excitedly.

"Oh, Master..."

Maximus withdrew his fingers and holding his breath he looked at the stunning sight of Haldir looking at him with half lidded eyes filled with passion for him.

"Please..." Haldir mumbled, awaiting his Master's present.

Maximus entered Haldir's hot body. He hissed in pleasure. Haldir let out a keening wail of pleasure, and Maximus only managed to thrust a few times before he felt his lover's inner muscles clench around his throbbing flesh. Haldir came hard and Maximus had no choice but follow. Just the sight of Haldir's face in sweet orgasmic pleasure had him rush towards his orgasm that much faster.

Haldir held their eye contact a few seconds still, but then he closed his eyes. "I have to sleep, Master. I am exhausted."

"Sleep in my bed, my dear. I will comfort you." Haldir nodded sleepily and together they left the bathing room and went upstairs to sleep in each other's arms.

Outside, Legolas sat on a stone, pondering whilst eating lembas that he and Alaviv had made. The eagle appeared and sat on his shoulder. Legolas turned his face and stuck a piece of bread between his lips. The bird snatched the food without hurting the Elf, and Legolas smiled and fed the bird the rest of his bread. Rising from the stone, Legolas spoke softly to the bird for a while. He wasn't in any doubt that the creature understood his words. "Why you have chosen me, noble hunter?" he asked. "Fly away to my beloved Mirkwood and bring back evidence of the state of my family. Are they still alive or have they reached the Halls of Mandos? I love my Ada and my children more than life itself. I need to know. I just need this." Legolas' voice broke as tears spilled over his high cheekbones. He lifted his arm and sent the bird into the air and, as if the eagle had understood the message, it flew higher and higher away until Legolas' keen eyes could no longer follow its flight.

Legolas fell to his knees and clutched his trembling body. Grieving, he wept inconsolably over the loss of his identity and family. The sound was so haunting that Glorfindel came outside to find the source of the disturbance in their mutual inner balance. He found the devastated crying bundle along with Alaviv who desperately tried to comfort the Elf. Glorfindel took over and gathered him into his arms. Legolas wept for a long time. 

"Legolas..." Glorfindel touched his trembling lips with a little kiss. It was breaking his heart how the young Elves were breaking down. It seemed like the reaction to being enslaved had caught up with them by now and they fought to keep their sanity intact.

Hungry for affection Legolas latched on to Glorfindel's mouth, kissing him as he moaned in need. Glorfindel welcomed him with his warm body, hoping he somehow could prevent Legolas from spinning into deeper sorrow. Picking up the prince, Glorfindel went inside the house and upstairs to Maximus' bedroom to put Legolas on the bed. He undressed both of them and arranged the covers around them. Maximus and Haldir lay in the other bed. Together all four slept till the next morning.

Alaviv went about his own business. He never asked what went on with the Elves, as he had learned was the name of their race, and the reason they looked different from him and the master. He was sad that it would seem the Elves were getting sick. He wondered if their Master had noticed that the Elves were dying. That’s what he thought they were. He had become immensely fond of them and found they were beautiful, passionate, and kind. Looking out of the window, Alaviv saw the first snowflakes fall from the sky. He rushed out of the house and danced about the place feeling like a kid again. The air smelled a bit like his Northern homeland, and at least some happiness sank into his troubled soul. There wasn't much happiness around the farm anymore. Longingly, he glanced upwards to the bedroom window. He missed Haldir and the feeling of his arms around him. He sighed and licked his lips. How he longed for the feeling of Haldir's body so close. He stopped his mindless wishful thinking. What was the point? He would never be able to compete with Haldir's other three lovers. Grabbing a bucket, he went to feed the animals.

 

*~.:.~*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Glass had been invented and was reportedly used in the Roman Empire in the Roman Iron Age (year 1-400 AD) of this story line.

*~.:.~* 

 

The next morning, Legolas sat up. He felt a bit better, but he knew matters he had ignored for a while still gnawed inside of him and tore at his strength. Luckily, he never had to deal with the specific feeling before, but now that he had to, he knew exactly what it was and he was scared of it. He didn't want to address it, but he didn't know how to stop it either, and the more attention he paid to it, the more it tore at him. Glancing at Glorfindel who watched him peacefully, he then decided to join the other bed after seeing how the general held Haldir close to him. Legolas smiled. The sight of Haldir looking so content in his sleep was truly a lovely one.

 _Perhaps you can overcome your sorrow, my love,_ Legolas wished with all of his heart. Slowly, he turned away from the charming sight to find that Glorfindel had dressed in the meantime, so Legolas did the same.

"Bring you weapons along, your Highness," Glorfindel whispered. They went downstairs and outside. A smile spread on their lips. The vision of snow covering the surface everywhere lifted Legolas' troubled mind somewhat. They started to walk, and after a while, Legolas noticed how the tension inside of him had lessened considerably. They began a series of exercises that soon had them in a competitive spirit to try and best one another. Swinging their swords in beautiful patterns, they did their utmost in trying to trick each other into losing. Slowly but surely, Glorfindel noticed how Legolas' inner light began burning brighter. He was very encouraged and hoped this kind of fun practice could be a way to make the young prince overcome the temptation to fade and move on.

Half an hour went by. A handful of farmers passing the property stopped to watch the magnificent pair but, eventually, went on about their business. Not sensing the cold, Glorfindel took off his tunic and attacked Legolas repeatedly, making the younger Elf pant and struggle to keep up. Glorfindel's body heat radiated as visual dampness in the frosty morning. Legolas sensed he was erotically intrigued and his concentration lessened several times. Glorfindel smiled, knowing perfectly well the affect he was having on the young Sindarin. He looked at Legolas with intense eyes when the other bent to adjust the laces on one of his sandals. When the Princeling looked up, his pupils dilated at the predatory glint in the tall blonde's blue eyes. He slowly rose to stand his full height; alert and ready to run. When Glorfindel accelerated, he spun and quickly went towards the clusters of trees close to Maximus' farm. Legolas was very fast, and chasing the younger Elf was good sport. Once in between the trees, they were hidden from prying eyes. 

Glorfindel sped up and, within moments, he was able to grab Legolas' arm. Legolas cried out in disappointment, and used all his power to get Glorfindel off of him, but shortly after he lay on the ground panting. Glorfindel sat on his chest and watched the glorious sight in front of him. Facial features so perfect and engaging that Glorfindel had to touch his cheek.

"Your beauty always takes my breath away, sweet prince." 

Legolas smiled playfully, but then he suddenly twisted and he was the one on top. "That may be so, but beauty can be deceptive - and now you have to pay," he triumphed. Glorfindel grinned expectantly as Legolas devoured his lips. 

"Pay for what?" the tall Elf smirked a few minutes after.

"Does it matter?" Legolas mumbled and began licking an erect nipple.

Soon, Glorfindel stretched teasingly under the Sinda Elf, but in the midst of their passion, Legolas suddenly pulled away and growled. Distancing himself a few paces, it was obvious that he was encouraging Glorfindel to follow him. Nevertheless, when the Vanya addressed him, he refused to acknowledge his presence. 

"Legolas!"

"WHAT?" the younger Elf shouted.

"Everyone here has lost dear ones. In fact, I lost my whole existence. My lover, all of my kin and my own life, so many millennia ago, and yet I survived my losses when I was refused access to the Halls of Mandos. I will not pretend that your grief is any less important. The scales are just too incompatible, but I say that you do not have to hold on to your grief forever. Enjoy Haldir. He loves you."

Legolas snorted bitterly. "Haldir does not want me, really. It would seem that he has a weakness for the human male. And _you_ do not want me, either. You have also fallen for a human. I had hoped for his affection, but Master has only eyes for you in return. Alaviv does not tempt my libido and sends his doe eyes after Haldir hoping he will realise he is ready for a mate. I am so lonely, Glorfindel. You cannot even begin to imagine, my friend." Legolas left Glorfindel who did not attempt to follow him this time. He went back to retrieve his tunic from the ground where they had practiced earlier. Then he went home. He didn't fear for Legolas at the moment. The anger would probably do him some good.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

TOSCANNY, ITALY  
FEBRUARY

A few weeks later, the eagle returned. The bird sought out the Sinda warrior who sat in front of one of the barns producing arrows. As Legolas stretched out his hand, a little token left the eagle's beak and landed snugly in his palm. Legolas immediately closed his eyes, refusing to look at the object. He clasped his hand tightly.

Some of the workers hired during winter looked shocked as the beast settled on the Elf's shoulder with flapping wings. However, apparently, Legolas wasn't surprised, and the bird definitely didn't seem to want to hurt the blonde. Then all of a sudden the eagle took off towards the house.

Inside the kitchen, Maximus and Glorfindel were busy working. Maximus wasn't as busy as Glorfindel who was hot from the hard work and only wore a kilt. Maximus often stole glances at the lovely sight of his lover bent over his work. The two of them were as close as possible. Maximus had never thought he would be so attached to the Elf as he had become. Glorfindel was almost vital to him by now, and the feeling was mutual. Glorfindel's body told him every night. The Spaniard offered to share himself with the other elves, but Haldir seldom craved any of them, and Legolas was as introverted as he had been since autumn. When he needed them, he came to them or simply enjoyed their encounters in his head. Maximus' heart was heavy for him. Glorfindel had fought hard to help Legolas get through the dark winter and it would seem his spirit was improving with the promise of springtime.

Suddenly, they both gasped at the frighteningly loud scratching noise on the white washed wall next to the window shudders that almost made their ears hurt. Legolas' bird had returned. A giant scream was heard close by and, soon, they felt it, too. They saw Haldir in the courtyard looking frantically everywhere, so they hurriedly rushed outside to join him. Legolas' ever-present spirit in their minds had vanished. The bird clearly tried to warn them. Along with Alaviv some workers came rushing yelling for Maximus to come to one of the barns.

They all got there fast but as soon as Glorfindel saw Legolas, he moved so quickly Maximus hardly registered the movement until the tall Vanya knelt in front of the young Mirkwood Elf.

Legolas' eyes were vacant in the scariest way. They were completely lifeless. Haldir knelt next to him, taking Legolas' hand and opening the cramped fingers gently one at the time.

"BY ELBERETH!!!!" 

Long moments passed, and Legolas swallowed, the sobs were already intruding his tranquillity. Nevertheless, he needed to know since there was no way back. Legolas finally opened his eyes and lifted one finger at the time, dragging out the pain as long as possible. He quickly dried his eyes. Then he looked and gasped at the items in his palm before slowly gazing towards the direction where he estimated Mirkwood might lie. 

"Let it be done..." he whispered, oblivious to the commotion that would soon surround him as life left his body.

Alaviv turned around and vomited. Glorfindel cried out loud and cradled Legolas' head. He wept, completely grief-stricken. "Oh, my little Princeling, say it is not so. Come back to us!" He shook Legolas, but then he resolutely grabbed the dead body and ran towards the house yelling for Haldir to follow. 

Maximus was in no condition to react to anything. He was in shock and watched as Alaviv wiped his mouth and, with shaking fingers, bent to look at the items left on the ground. Stiffly Maximus neared to finally have a look as well. He closed his eyes.

On the ground lay one single eyeball and three tiny rings of Mithril with the bloody, small fingers still attached.

As soon as the eagle saw Legolas being carried to the house, it relaxed and flew to sit on the roof. When Maximus and the other humans of the farm came to the front door, the eagle screamed in warning and prevented them access to the house. Maximus was devastated and tried several times, but there was nothing he could do. The sharp beak and claws would not yield no matter if he tried a window or the door. He was incredibly close to killing the beast to get to the Elves, but it was a very bad omen.

Inside the house, Glorfindel and Haldir undressed and ripped off Legolas' clothes as well. 

"Let it be done, Haldir O' Lothlórien."

"Let it be done Glorfindel O' Imladris." 

Quickly, Haldir followed his intuition and stroked Glorfindel's cock to full hardness and, shortly after, Glorfindel entered Legolas' corpse praying it wasn't too late. The channel felt vibrant and pliant and he soon found release. 

"Let it be done. Oh, please let it be done," Glorfindel chanted as he came, crying. Before long, he just lay there inside Legolas' body. Holding him so tight his muscles ached. He waited so long, right until Haldir gently shook his shoulder.

"Glorfindel, I am begging you. There is nothing to do. Too much time has past already. He has gone. We have lost him."

Glorfindel shook his head. He refused to acknowledge the fact. Not his beautiful, dangerous, Woodland assassin. He cried in defeated rage, not realising what chemicals were being released in his body. Haldir cried out in pain as the enormous electric current from Glorfindel coursed through his body. 

Suddenly, Legolas' body jerked, and they both yelled in horror. However, the Sinda was yet again motionless. Haldir sobbed and gritting his teeth, while Glorfindel slowly retreated from Legolas’ body.

"Just nerves twitching, Haldir. This does not change the fact that he is gone."

They sat in lament for their lost comrade. Their lover and brother. Their souls’ missing link. They both held his hand, still making a triangle. Twilight soon fell over the farm and, astonished, they realised Legolas' body was still glowing with an inner light. Glorfindel cried, frustrated. If the Princeling had not yet faded, then why couldn't he reach him?

Haldir looked at Glorfindel. "Perhaps he needs the token from his lost kin?" he suggested in frustration.

"Get them fast, Haldir!" Glorfindel snapped.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

_"Ada!"_

Legolas smiled as his beautiful daughters came rushing toward him. Nevertheless, every time he tried to join them, Mandos stepped in his way so he lost his balance and tumbled down the huge granite staircase that lead towards his kin residing in the Halls of Mandos. But he had to reach his children and his father. He simply had to. In the distance, he constantly heard Glorfindel calling him back to life. Why would he not let him go? Why did Mandos not help him succeed? Legolas suffered from the various jolts coursing through him; charging him to the point of burning. Suddenly, his daughters disappeared out of sight and he was completely alone in a soundless, warm, tight, and soft darkness. 

He felt kisses on his cheeks and nipples. Soft tongue, hard tongue. Hot, wet dips into his belly button making him moan. Scorching licks to one flank, licks to the other all the way up to his armpit. Kisses to cover the curve of his pectoral muscle and ending on a cool, peaked and very aroused nipple. He moaned again. Soft broad strokes across his Adam’s apple. Writhing, he felt another moist tongue on his wrist, between his fingers, and sucking each nail and finger pad lazily. Legolas panted as licks trailed to the hollow of his elbow and harder sucking of the elbow bone. As he felt the ball rotated softly, the licks became teasing making him shake in delight.

Licks to the inner side of his spread thighs, and he was slowly going insane with want. Finally one - no two - no three, he lost counting as his cock was devoured from all angles. He moaned as he felt licks and suctions everywhere. His entrance, cock, testicles, nipples, and mouth. Every possible erotic zone of his body was touched at once. He came fast and hard and immediately it all started all over. Finally, he awoke completely relaxed and satisfied. Expecting to eventually have reached his destination, he sat up in bed. Completely out of context, he noticed how lovely the sun shone this morning. 

_Springtime is near. How I long for the kiss of warm sunlight on my face,_ he mused. He noticed a flash of the sun close to his person and, looking down, he realised his little finger on the left hand was decorated with three beautiful rings of Mithril. He smiled but didn't recognize them at first; nevertheless, something about them was pleasantly familiar.

Legolas leapt out of bed and, putting on some clothes and sandals, he then went downstairs. To his astonishment, those present bowed deeply, and he lifted his eyebrows in puzzlement until he heard them cry in unison, "We salute you King Legolas of Mirkwood."

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Legolas awoke with a gasp. He felt Haldir's arm slung across his waist. He tried to get free but he realised he couldn't. Gently, he shook Haldir's shoulder.

"Haldir! Wake up."

Haldir mumbled but then woke quickly. He smiled and embraced him. "By Elbereth. You are awake."

Legolas smiled. "Was I... Was there a Coronation lately?" 

Haldir looked down. "No, I am afraid there was none."

"I must have been dreaming, then." 

"I think you must have, my friend," Haldir agreed, smiling sadly.

Legolas cried for a while. Haldir found it extremely hard watching Legolas coming to terms with his father and daughters' deaths. Technically, the young Sinda was now King of Mirkwood. Technically, he was the property of Maximus Meridius. A pleasure slave.

 

*~.:.~*

 

TOSCANNY, ITALY  
SPRING

Haldir and Alaviv were sitting comfortably in a tree looking down at the workers busily tending the wheat field, loosening the earth with pickaxes to remove the offending weed.

“What are we looking for?" Alaviv whispered, excitedly.

"At home we would have been patrolling for enemies," Haldir whispered back. "Today, I think we must look out for ravens trying peck at the seeds." 

Alaviv smiled at Haldir and shyly he looked away as Haldir's eyes almost penetrated his.

"Alaviv..."

Alaviv looked back and nervously licked his thin lips at the now tender look in Haldir's eyes. 

"You look so sweet, my lovely Alaviv. My dear Alaviv," Haldir whispered to him. Alaviv swallowed and simply latched his lips to Haldir's. He felt Haldir's hands cradle the back of his head, holding him tightly against his hard body, and sighing happily the young man lost himself in his first kiss; snuggling as close as possible within the narrow confines of the trunk.

His heart was beating at a high rate. The young Celt was so excited he feared he might fall out of the tree. Haldir had called him his dear one. He marvelled at how tight Haldir held him. After what seemed like a very long time, their lips parted with a soft sound. Alaviv looked dreamily into Haldir's eyes with a beaming gaze. He was so in love, and Haldir smiled back nuzzling his beloved's long nose with his own.

Looking to make sure they weren't watched, Haldir unlaced Alaviv's shirt and watched as a breeze made the fabric flutter tantalizingly. He took in the lovely sight of the young man's chest. Even though Alaviv was still a youth, he was already growing chest hairs. Haldir nicked one, making Alaviv complain. Alaviv moved closer, feeling good at being the centre of Haldir's attention. Haldir slowly bent forward and put the tip of his tongue against Alaviv's left nipple. Alaviv gasped at the feel of the hot tongue. He wondered about how hot an Elf was inside, and the thought of how he would be able to find that out made him smirk with anticipation. Haldir and the other Elves never seemed to freeze during the winter. Alaviv concentrated on breathing evenly as Haldir gently flicked his tongue across the hard nub a few more times until Alaviv panted shallowly.

Haldir lifted his face to kiss Alaviv's mouth. The pliant lips opened willingly and Haldir retreated with a big smile. 

Alaviv cleared his throat and took Haldir's hands. "I think I've loved you from the first moment I saw you tied to the tree with the others."

Haldir nodded. "I have had a lot of anger inside that I have finally come to terms with. I feel ready to love again. Loving you, Alaviv."

Alaviv swallowed thickly. "And the others"?

Haldir looked away. "They are different. I am not in love with Master, Glorfindel, or Legolas. Those I just love. They are dear to me because they are the only family I have had for a long time."

Alaviv nodded, trying to understand what the difference meant to an Elf like Haldir. 

Haldir let his finger pad caress Alaviv's nose once more before skimming along the tempting Cupid's bow. Alaviv closed his eyes and felt goose bumps all over his body in sweet expectation.

"Hey! Alaviv!" the unfriendly voice of the foreman was heard underneath the tree where they sat. "Break's over."

Alaviv opened his eyes. Haldir smiled regretfully and gave Alaviv another hot kiss. Releasing the lovely lips, he mumbled, "Do not worry, my passionate love." He let go of the Celt and then climbed higher in the tree before he completely disappeared in between the leaves. Alaviv smiled.

"More kisses tonight, love," Haldir's laughing voice said from above. Then Alaviv climbed down the tree and returned to work.

 

*~.:.~*

 

Glorfindel sat at Maximus' desk. He was drawing a map and calculating distances. He looked up from time to time when someone entered or left the house. He wasn't particularly interested in letting anyone find out what he was doing. Finally, he had managed to finish the task he had put his mind to. He reached out and before long Legolas stood in the doorway to the room. He came closer and soon he was wrapped in Glorfindel's arms.

"How are you, Laiqualasse?"

Legolas said nothing, just looking away. Glorfindel let go of the Mirkwood king, went to the desk, took the map, and showed his friend the parchment. "Look. I made something for us. This is a map of how to get from Toscana to Middle-earth. We’ve received a decree from Rome to feed the Macedonian army. I hoped somehow we could return home if ever Rome was to give up on conquering the remains of the lands. Now it would seem this place will be swamped with Greeks, too, wanting a piece of Middle-earth, eventually. However, the supplies we can spare are in the small barn. I’ve seen to it.”

Legolas shrugged and then fixed his eyes on the map. "What would be the point? What else would be left of my kingdom other than spiders? They are welcome to have those."

Glorfindel imagined for a moment Legolas letting himself be stabbed by a mob of giant Mirkwood spiders. Shuddering at the thought, he hugged Legolas hard, feeling the young warrior's body sag greedily at the contact. He let a hand roam the Sinda's hair. His strokes halted at the feel of the little rings braided into the tresses on the back of Legolas' head. 

The Woodland Elf clutched the map offered to him and he stepped away from the Vanya. 

"Will you leave?" Glorfindel asked quietly.

Legolas turned in the door, "Nay, probably not. I might as well be miserable here amongst friends than ruling a vast, empty forest in Mirkwood... going insane during the process. Don’t you think?" 

Glorfindel frowned at hearing Legolas speak in a Westron tone, but resisted commenting when the young king went upstairs.

Legolas sat on the bed he, until recently, had shared with Haldir. The Silvan Elf had chosen to sleep in the workers’ quarters to get closer to Alaviv. Legolas had offered to switch so the infatuated ‘friends’ could be together but, of course, they wouldn’t acknowledge that Legolas knew about the nature of their relationship. Having brought along the map, he began studying Glorfindel’s detailed drawings with a deep longing. Yes, he wished they could be back in their beautiful realms, but he doubted there was anything left to return to. The lands were raped as well as their people. A sound caught his attention and, looking out of the small window, he saw foreign riders approaching.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

After spending several months in the Macedonian army nourishing his military career, Hephaestion was a popular officer already in charge of Logistics. Being Amyntor’s son had opened many doors for him, yes, but his unique skills had kept those doors from shutting in his face again. He was a fresh breath of air and worked with tireless enthusiasm, well-known for not making any mistakes. He had encountered many Elves by now, but he had no power to help the doomed creatures. He protected himself even more than ever, even thinking about doing surgery on his pointy ears by himself. So far, he had not had the courage and even felt he would betray himself by doing so. 

Attalus had powerful friends, helping to keep the healthy economy of the Macedonian crown thus. He lusted to conquer more lands as were he already king. King Philippos had conquered many Asian lands and Attalus, having contributed on these campaigns, had grown bored of stretching the empire across those borders. Now he thought of conquering the North which the Romans had given up on. The time had come to test his ambition to control these harsh tribes and, manipulating the weak king, Attalus got his consent to plan and effectuate a campaign against the Germanian Berserkers. Attalus would not fail and he would strike down on the Barbarian hordes that controlled the regions there and prevent them from bothering the wealthy Celts of middle and Eastern Europe. Hephaestion was included in this campaign and upgraded to general, commander of the Cavalry as well as Logistics. Hephaestion arranged supplies from many small villages along their march towards their battlefield, sending dispatches to warn those farms to be ready when they were needed. Amongst those were Tuscan farmers who had excess food to give to the army.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Promptly, Legolas exited the bedroom to come standing in the yard. Glorfindel came to stand in the door and watched but, so far, he didn’t interfere. These had to be the unit coming for provisions like Maximus had explained. Macedonia was an ally to Rome and they were entitled to benefit from their supplies. A young handsome soldier extricated himself from the small unit of eight people and approached on his horse. Glorfindel furrowed his brow, having sensed an Elf among them already when they breached the property. How extraordinary. The rider turned out to be him.

Slowly dismounting, the foreign Elf approached Legolas, who stood in the middle of the yard, and they faced each other.

“Who are you?” Legolas asked, not bothering to greet him appropriately.

Hesitating at first at the obvious mistrust, the newcomer then proceeded, responding, “My name is Hephaestion Amyntoros. In the name of Macedonia’s King Philippos, I hereby request supplies according to our treaty...”

“You know what I meant. _What_ are you?” Legolas demanded to know, speaking Sindarin to the Elf.

“Macedonian,” Hephaestion replied in Latin, diplomatically, chancing a look at the other Elf standing in the doorway to the main house. “Is this going to be a problem?” 

Legolas glanced at the escort strategically positioned close by, looking like they were ready to assist the officer, and there was no need for that, really. “Nay.” The two Elves gauged each other’s strengths and weaknesses for several more moments, where after Legolas cocked his head towards the smallest of their barns. “Everything is in there. Ready for transportation.”

“Thank you...?” Hephaestion looked questioningly at Legolas.

“Legolas Thranduilion.”

Hephaestion looked a little puzzled. He had heard that name somewhere, or parts of it when he was still living in Imladris.

“How can you face yourself in the morning, taking pay from our enemy?” Legolas asked in a low insulting tone of voice, still addressing him in Sindarin. The hostility between them was mutual, and gradually growing.

“If you must know, my father ranks general in the Macedonian army-” Hephaestion answered in Sindarin, too.

“And what are you? His dressed up lap dog?” Legolas interrupted.

“...as do I!” Hephaestion thundered in annoyance. What was this Elf’s problem? With biting sarcasm he gave back, “Are you looking for a rescue out of your little misery? Then I deplore the fact that I have no authority in such matters.”

“Do not patronize me,” Legolas snarled lowly.

Hephaestion smiled dangerously. “And you were not?” Seeing Elves _not_ on the verge of despair or on the edge of withering away was a rare sensation, and this particular Elf ignited a fresh kind of passion within Hephaestion, but whether it was sexual in nature or just carried by the Elf’s aggravating arrogance, he couldn’t grasp. Hephaestion wasn’t used to the feeling of having his inner balance challenged so explicitly. And yet, the young general could only rejoice that the Elf’s owner hadn’t broken his spirit. Nevertheless, he concluded that he definitely didn’t like this Legolas Thranduilion, and he picked up the other’s reciprocated dislike for him just as whole-heartedly. Nodding curtly to both Elves, Hephaestion got on his horse, turned, and calmly rode back to the crew who went to load the supplies to continue their journey before the hour got too late.

“What an arrogant, pompous, Greek imbecile,” Legolas complained loudly, as he turned to Glorfindel who just shrugged, smirking. He could tell that Legolas was attracted to the foreign Elf who had just confronted him so sublimely. Not that Legolas would ever admit it, but the expression in his face, the way he stood, oh and the generous, erotic images he tried to keep from Glorfindel’s mind was all proof that Legolas was more than interested in the attractive Macedonian Elf.

However, Glorfindel didn’t taunt him and just said, “Never heard of him. I doubt Hephaestion Amyntoros is his real name. His Sindarin was surprisingly ancient. He could be millennia old for all I could tell,” Glorfindel mused and went back inside.

Narrowing his eyes, Legolas shook his fist at him and growled, “Traitor!” 

Legolas began walking out of the yard and went to stand on the road. His keen eyes watched the Macedonian unit as they disappeared over the horizon. He looked for the beautiful dark-haired Hephaestion. Of course he did. No way would he ever forget him. But Glorfindel needn’t know that. 

 

*~.:.~*


	7. Chapter 7

*~.:.~* 

 

 

GERMANIA, 

LATE SPRING

Travelling to the Germanian borders had taken a while as the remains of winter still lurked higher up north; Attalus' timing was poor, and the men grumbled as their enemy had been nowhere in sight when they at long last reached the northern lands. But at last they saw some action.

Strolling about in the camp, the Macedonian regent was too agitated to sit at council to discuss the next step. Besides, what he had to discuss was for a few men's ears anyway. A week ago, they finally encountered the enemy and had fought hard since then. Now, his army was resting. The fourth clash had taken place between the two armies with many losses to the Berserkers, who fought with naked upper bodies and didn't seem to feel the early spring cold. Attalus was told they drank hemlock before battle and that the poison gave them inhuman strength, preventing them from sensing the cold. Well - that had yet to be seen. The Barbarians might outnumber Attalus' army, but they were not very skilled in how to avoid being killed when all they had to protect themselves with were swords and hand held shields. Now it was time to talk some sense into the Barbarians.

Attalus planned to start negotiating to make their leader Aelwöt see reason. As always, when the Macedonian king conquered new lands, he would offer the conquered leader to continue govern his people and acknowledge Philippos as the true King and stop making troublesome raids on other people.

Attalus’ eyes roamed the staff and asked General Hephaestion Amyntoros to step closer. That the young officer turned out to be the son of General Amyntor, an old friend of the king, had been a surprise to all. With his son being part of the campaigns that followed, Attalus had immediately felt the improvement compared to earlier when campaigns had been cancelled because of disastrous judgements. On a further note, Hephaestion had diplomatically avoided Attalus’ sexual advances so far. It frustrated the regent to have the desirable long haired man walking about like an unintentional cock tease, when on several occasions the young general did seem interested in other men. Hephaestion handled multi-tasking; he spoke many languages and was a diplomatic natural besides being in charge of logistics. The versatile soldier had advanced fast and, after the last campaign, had been well deservedly promoted to commander of the Calvary. When Attalus first heard news about the young man’s amazing fighting skills that was the talk amongst the men in the barracks, he went to have a look in person. What first surprised Attalus and caught his attention was how beautiful Amyntor’s son was. He looked nothing like the father, so the son must take from his mother’s side. Hephaestion’s smooth limbs moved with feline grace in all of his movements, almost like the delectable and rare Elven people. 

After a few days of lusting after General Hephaestion, Attalus decided there was no need to drag out the inevitable, and requested for his private company, making no misunderstanding what was the real intent behind his offer and, to his displeasure, the young Athenian declined his request practically immediately. Attalus wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, though, and continued to pursue Hephaestion but to no use. He still hadn’t tasted the man's flesh. He pondered whether to command him, but even someone as ruthless as Attalus understood that that would be unwise. After all, he was General Amyntor’s only son. He had to be subtler, which wasn’t his strongest suit.

The handsome officer excelled handling difficult elements in battle, yes, but what if he was insufficiently equipped? Then he would fail and would only be able to redeem his family name if he made it up to Attalus, and stayed the pride of his father’s eye, and his company. More so - a perfect way to do this would be if Hephaestion paid his debt in the regent's bed... Lately, Attalus had even nursed the idea of proposing marriage to Hephaestion. A delirious idea, perhaps, but Hephaestion was too old with a status of his own to be anybody’s Eromenos, but through marriage he would be honoured the position of _Prince Consort_ when Attalus became king of Macedonia in the hopes that would soften the Athenian's resentment. Attalus just needed the perfect opportunity. He knew he was tempting fate here, but he dearly wished Hephaestion would fail and disappoint him, so he could demand this request. Then Hephaestion would pay the penalty, and Attalus could hardly wait to plunge his cock inside the soldier's body. 

Returning his attention back to the present, eager discussions flowed during the staff meeting in Attalus' tent as to how a diplomatic approach should be conducted with Aelwöt. Attalus wanted a small delegation. Vehemently, the other officers advised against it, but the regent seemed stubborn and illogical about his decision. Arrogantly, he reminded them that they were only advisers and that while he appreciated their inputs, he was certain on this matter, not to mention the highest-ranking person there.

"You shouldn't do this, Hephaestion," Perdiccas whispered, worriedly. Hephaestion looked down. He couldn’t wrap his mind around any logic whatsoever in Attalus’ unreasonable and dangerous plan. Hephaestion argued wisely and, ultimately, negotiated himself to a handful of his most trusted Cavalrymen and twenty Infantrymen to support him. 

Attalus was satisfied, because it would still not be enough. Hephaestion would fail and return home with no result. "At this point, I doubt you'll be met with the rest of Aelwöt's army," Attalus joked. 

Hephaestion smiled, dutifully, but still argued they could use more men. "This is the type of people who will fight to the last drop of blood, Your Regency. We need more men." However, it was of no use. Attalus had made his decision, and Hephaestion declared, "I will do my utmost to make Aelwöt understand that his people can still live as before and not end this experience in slavery if they will not bend to the Macedonian crown."

"That's the spirit, General Hephaestion. You'll be back with us in no time and..."

Hephaestion didn't stay to listen to the rest of the repulsive regent's self-satisfied comments. "Thank you, Your Regency. I will retire for the evening and go over this a bit more, then choose my men. Goodnight."

"But..."

Hephaestion pretended he didn't hear Attalus and left the tent. The rest of men didn't know what to say. Attalus was behaving irrationally and it would be very unfortunate if the army were to lose this General when the machinery ran so smoothly under his competent care.

Sitting in his tent, Hephaestion ate dinner as he went through the files of men he felt were best for the assignment. His stomach was upset as it always was with tasks such as these. He might need help with translation. Though he was a very good linguist, he needed to make sure the barrier of language was no obstacle to achieve King Philippos' goal. Pondering about it for a while, he went outside to seek the Celt they used for translations in this area, and eventually decided to include him in the party.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Aelwöt forced his Berserker warriors through the forest before dawn. They didn't feel the cold as their naked chests heaved for breath. When the sound of their enemies' horses was heard on the pebbled main path, they halted. Crouching down onto the forest bed, they watched intently as a little group of men slowly passed by. They were clad in lavish furs and what looked like short kilts. 

"What are they doing?" the leader whispered. 

"They have come to talk," the reply was whispered back to him.

"No talk. We fight them like we fought the Romans." Despite Aelwöt's army suffering greatly in all the battles they had fought against the enemy from the south, he would not surrender. Better die in battle than anything else. They knew no other way. The invading enemy wasn't even considerable, but like the Romans when they tried to conquer their lands, the Greeks also had technology Aelwöt couldn't even imagine.

This morning, one of his scouts suddenly rushed in and announced that he had seen a small delegation approach at the mouth of the woods. They had stopped there and seemed to wait for something.

"They are waiting, you say? Can we fight them? Can we win?" Aelwöt had asked, and the scout replied that it was a ridiculously small unit, so yes. They could easily fight them with an arm tied behind their backs.

"They have brought horsemen as well as infantry." 

"I want their leader. Is he amongst them?"

"I saw a boy who looked in charge. But I couldn't say," the scout had shrugged, laughing. "I have no idea, Aelwöt. To me, they could all be the leader. Their faces are smooth like boys," he smirked. 

Aelwöt had grunted and laughed hard with his men, but then the noise stilled abruptly. During the battles in the previous days, the Germanian leader had initially thought they were fighting boys and not men, but quickly realised his fatal assumption. These foreigners were deadly in combat, and his own men fell so fast that Aelwöt didn't know how to reverse the aggression to their own advantage and win. The enemy seemed to stay alive no matter how they tried to beat them and no matter how many men he sent in.

Now the Berserkers' bodies were humming from pent-up rage against the invasion. This delegation was going to pay and by taking out these men, hopefully, it would weaken the enemy's strategy. 

Suddenly, the horsemen halted, and Aelwöt smirked. "Attack!" he then yelled, and his men sprang up from the ground and went straight for the horses.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

The following morning, Attalus was awoken. 

"General Hephaestion and his delegation haven't returned, Your Regency."

Attalus was aware of it. They had waited for signs from the scouts all evening, and they hadn't returned either. Worried his plan had failed, Attalus waited nervously until midday and, finally, news arrived. His attention was solely on the scout's grave expression.

"Sire, the delegation was massacred. No one survived and anything of value has been removed from the site."

"And the general?"

"General Hephaestion is missing but the rest of the men are corpses. No one survived that kind of slaughter," he repeated.

"How would you know if General Hephaestion survived if his corpse is missing?" Attalus barked at the scout, completely ignorant of the otherwise loss of good men as his frustration of having miscalculated ordering the negotiation grew by the second. Just thinking about the beautiful General now being dead was quite frankly a shock, but Attalus would never admit it was his mistake. 

The scout looked distressed, and Attalus dismissed him. This was very bad for morale. He hoped Hephaestion's disappearance meant he was taken prisoner. He wanted his diplomat back; he wanted him in his bed, by Zeus! However, he had a feeling the Berserkers were animals and with his comely looks, the Athenian would not live long anyway in their care - how they'd use him was obvious. How could he have been so stupid as to think Hephaestion would return if his men were slaughtered? 

Attalus slumped. Just a few more days, then they would attack these bastards with the slim hope that Hephaestion would still be alive. The Macedonian army was much more dependant on the general than Attalus had remembered in the heat of the moment when he plotted the unfortunate plan to get the Athenian as his consort. Now he didn't even have that...

Perdiccas asked carefully, "And Hephaestion? What about him, Your Regency?"

"I fear that the general might be kept as prisoner, and..." Attalus sighed, "should he die, we will always remember him for his admirable courage." 

He noticed the men had nothing to comment, and he quickly left, sensing their hostility. He realised that they thought if he could be so casual about Hephaestion - whom he favoured - it would be just as easy for him to dispose of the rest of them as well. This had not been one of his best diplomatic manoeuvres.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

"Let's stop for now," Hephaestion said to his appointed second in command, hoping the rustle in the woods was indeed the enemy sizing them up, so he imagined a reaction was soon in coming. He hated the waiting.

The first arrows flew towards them accompanied by the loud shouts from the Barbarian warriors. 

"We're under siege!" Hephaestion shouted to make sure everyone in the delegation was aware of the danger. It was clear that the Berserkers were aiming at the horses to set them out of the battle.

"Are they mad!?" someone yelled. 

Some of the horsemen were already trapped under the weight of their horse, so Hephaestion’s men were quickly outnumbered as the Barbarians went into a close fight straight away. 

Hephaestion's horse was wounded as well, but he escaped its body, and was already on his feet fighting for his life. The Macedonians never despaired and returned the offensive back to back, but soon, another wave of attackers came toward them, and Hephaestion knew any odds in their favour were nonexistent. They might have been able to handle the first wave, but the second wave was massive. Much too quickly, Hephaestion's men were cut down and it seemed like the Berserkers kept coming at them.

Through blood shot eyes, the young Elf saw the last of his Infantry fall, and he realised he wasn't standing up anymore. In a detached fashion, he could admire the strategic skills of Aelwöt, the commander of these Berserkers. 

The Barbarian warriors went about the dead and wounded, making sure to finish off any Macedonian who still had a chance of survival. One of the men poised above Hephaestion. The diplomat's eyes were still, as he sensed nothing.

The red-haired man shrugged regrettably to another warrior. "A shame he's dead. I could have had fun with him back in camp. He's pretty." Instead, the man freed his cock and leaked all over the slain enemy, covering his face and bloody garments in warm urine. Grinning, he tugged himself back inside his clothes and left.

Hephaestion wondered if he was already dead since the man hadn't bothered to stab his heart. He didn't feel dead; in fact, he felt neither cold nor warm, just numb and alone. The Barbarians had picked up their dead but left the general's massacred delegation for the scavengers. 

Realising that he couldn't rise from his position on the ground, Hephaestion thought, _I must be dead then..._ and dreaded what would happen to him in the after life. At some point, he began crawling towards a bush in search of safety. It caused him a lot of pain, and his wounds bled freely. 

Time passed and he didn't know for how long he lay there. The sun rose higher in the sky, and then he suddenly saw a different type of men approach the battleground. They were clad in lighter colours clearly not the woollen garments of the Barbarians. 

_Maybe these people serve Elysium?_ Hephaestion wondered, worrying a bit if where he belonged would cause technical problems in the afterlife.

When they gathered around him, he asked softly, relieved that something finally happened, "Have you come to collect me?" He wasn't answered, and he saw that they only came for him, for it seemed they found no signs of life from the others. However, Hephaestion doubted they found any signs of life on him either.

Nevertheless, he was freed of his armour and gently lifted and carried away from the sickening sight of his dead men. Hephaestion was truly saddened to see the many known faces on the stiff corpses on the ground never to breathe again. 

_Are you breathing?_ he thought, but he couldn't determine that. _Maybe I am dead?_ he asked himself for the third time. The gentle movement from his carriers lulled him to sleep.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Lying on his stomach on a cot, Hephaestion awoke in the late afternoon in what looked like a rectangular tent. Turning his head, he saw smoke coming from the central fire in the middle of the room drifting towards a hole in the roof. He wasn’t wearing his armour anymore and found his lower body covered in soft furs. Hephaestion’s back ached in a mind-blowing way when he tried to move a little. Gasping, he attempted to communicate his pain, but it came out like a squeak as if he'd lost the ability to speak. Blinking, he saw the daylight disappear rapidly. It was surprisingly sunny in the room for an early spring day, and an interesting round source of light became apparent, as the hole in the roof seemed to darken with the outside night. He tried to figure out what caused the trick, but he was having trouble sticking to more than one topic in his mind at the time.

Turning his head, Hephaestion studied his surroundings a bit better with his limited scope of vision, but seeing had become painful, too. He must have suffered a blow to the head. Closing his eyes, he felt confusion and powerlessness sweep over him. Nausea overwhelmed him and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, or he knew he would throw up. He had no idea where he was... or who, for not even his name came to mind. He could be anybody.

After a while, someone fed him, but he didn't bother to look at the person, just sensed their presence physically. A sharp tasting drink was followed by a sweeter one, and he recognized the taste as poppy juice. He recalled the feeling of drifting upwards, losing his inhibitions, until he was weightless and free. Someone was holding him and he felt safe. Thereafter, he slipped into a vivid dream, where he tried to find himself; always on the verge, but the answer eluted him every time.

The next time Hephaestion awoke, bright daylight shone from the roof hole. Everything was quiet, and he wondered why the light even changed in Elysium; however, this was not the Elysium that he had imagined, but then, who had ever heard of anyone coming back to earth and account for their experience in the House of Death? Feeling a lump in his throat at the thought of never returning to earth, Hephaestion took a bit of comfort in the tent where he rested, rather liking the look of the place. It made him feel still like a living person. Moreover, the light changing in the roof hole resembled light on earth and the turn of night and day of life as it used to be. Finally, Hephaestion realised with a mixture of relief and disappointment that it was just the moon.

Regularly, Hephaestion was given poppy juice and real food. Both items puzzled him. Why would he even need food in Elysium? Why would he feel pain and still be wounded? But then again - he had no proof of how life was here, and how his body reacted. Maybe, he just wasn't dead _enough?_ That his caretaker was waiting for him to fully die? That only then he would be allowed access the life of the dead, but it felt like they tried to nurture him back to life instead of preparing him for death. 

Why was his memory eluding him so gruesomely? Confused, Hephaestion couldn't voice his urgent questions as his voice was still betraying him, and he didn't understand the hushed language he caught from time to time. Every night he felt the presence of comfort in his bed and he liked it very much. During the daytime, he began to register hands cleaning him occasionally, and taking care of his physical disposals. However, mostly he just felt drowsy from digesting poppy juice keeping the pain at a tolerable level. He didn't need to voice that. Somehow, his caretaker knew when he needed it.

Finally, Hephaestion began to feel better. As he lay musing, he felt a hand touch his naked shoulder and he grasped the wrist forcefully. It was the first time one of the people had come close enough for him to touch them in a moment of strength. Until now, he had been too disorientated and weak.

The hand stopped its quest touching him. Opening his eyes, Hephaestion stared at the owner of the hand who looked back. Deep intense brown eyes in a handsome face framed by straight soft braided hair. Hephaestion didn't know what to expect but somehow, he hadn't expected a man. His caretaker had been so gentle that he automatically assumed it had been a woman, and not this man who lifted a soft calfskins rag to wipe his skin clean.

"Where am I?" Hephaestion's voice rasped. A wide smile revealing white teeth prompted a smile of Hephaestion's own, but he didn't lose his grip of the man's wrist.

With his other hand, the man let him see that he held a cup. Feeling thirsty, Hephaestion nodded and, soon, cool water passed down his parched throat. 

Putting the cup aside, the other man did not attempt to try and make Hephaestion let go of him, and the Athenian just kept staring into his kind eyes. "Are you guarding the port to Elysium? I didn't have coins for the fare..." Hephaestion managed to utter, hating the tremble in his feeble voice that finally obeyed him.

"Drink some more," the man said. In a few days, he would have picked up the rhythm of his charge’s language and understood much more, but just now, he didn't understand what the wounded Elven stranger said to him. Yes, he sensed him already when he lay bleeding to death on that battleground. Also, his ears betrayed him, and none other would have survived what he just had. The people spoke of it, obviously thinking something was wrong. San-Dir had to protect him from them finding out his patient was Elven, too. Having no compassion for strangers, they would want him gone right away. Unfortunately, they were right: it was too dangerous to have an Elf amongst them in times like these. 

Another day passed. Hephaestion still lay on the bed, only now he could face the activities in the tent, lying on his side. He soon understood that no one else lived in there besides the dark haired man. People came and went seeking his advice, but when daylight faded, there was only Hephaestion and his caretaker, who apparently slept in the bed, too. Hephaestion was so used to it by now that he didn't mind and, truthfully speaking, he felt better not sleeping alone. The people visiting the tent during day seemed very interested in him, and Hephaestion sensed they wanted to get in contact with him, but his caretaker acted like a barrier that wasn't crossed at any time. Obviously, he was a powerful member of their tribe.

Every time they made conversation, the man tried to speak to him in Hephaestion's language. It was far from perfect, but the young general was flattered that the man made such enthusiastic attempts to try to understand him. Likewise, Hephaestion discovered he was quickly picking up the man's language as well, so combined they were able to communicate with each other a little better. Hephaestion asked him a lot of questions about the place. Was it Elysium? However, he had difficulty getting that idea across in the conversation. Clearly, the man had no idea what he was talking about. 

Somehow, it made Hephaestion relieved. If this wasn't Elysium, maybe he had a chance of remembering who he was, and why he had lost his memory. His clothing didn't give him away as he was dressed in the kind of clothes San-dir - that was the name of the man - and the other tribesmen wore. 

San-dir called him Celt, basing this on his clear blue eyes and golden chestnut coloured hair. His tribesmen were getting impatient and wanted him to send the Celt away. San-dir did his best to keep the Elf undisturbed and away from nosy glares, constantly hiding his ears behind his long hair. 

Hephaestion asked why. 

“They must not see your ears are pointy,” was all the man said to him. Hephaestion had noticed that San-dir’s ears were pointy, too, but he didn’t dare ask why his were not hidden.

Some tribesmen had not stopped bickering on San-dir’s insistence on keeping the wounded warrior in the tribe even as they prepared to wander towards a warmer climate. However, the herbalist would hear nothing of their protests. The Elf still needed his care and protection. He was not well enough to be on his own with the severe memory loss, he would not know his own strength, and the timing was not right to teach him. Also, San-dir had to admit he liked having him in his bed. So far, the tribesmen dared not to cross him. San-dir was a chosen one. His skills with sacred herbs and medicine gave him a seat high in the tribe's hierarchy. He had been with this Nomad tribe for centuries and no one questioned why he never seemed to get older. However, there wasn’t room for two of their kind in the tribe; that would weaken his own position, but still he wouldn’t let go of the wounded soldier before he was ready.

 

*~.:.~*

 

One evening, San-dir helped Hephaestion to sit up in bed and, gratefully, the Macedonian ate the offered supper. Then San-dir insisted on feeding him, something he introduced lately halfway through Hephaestion's meals. That aspect had initially surprised Hephaestion, but as with the nightly comfort, he had taken to enjoying this ritual as much as San-dir did. He was offered a cup and without thought, Hephaestion gulped a mouthful. 

A heavy sweet brew burned pleasantly down his throat. What a nice surprise. It tasted like... well he didn't really know, as he had never tasted this before. He felt warmth spread throughout his body, reviving everything and, closing his eyes, he felt a humming. Then he laughed and drank some more, enjoying the nice buzz. 

Looking at San-dir, he smiled and found the man looked... different. His face came nearer and he felt a hand on his own encouraging him to leave his bed. Hephaestion laughed again. Being used to watered-down wine, he had quickly become drunk, feeling as if it wasn't really him standing with San-dir. He looked back towards the bed just to make sure. Then he turned to face the brown-eyed man again. San-dir held him loosely, but Hephaestion's wobbly legs betrayed the long time he had spent on his back. "You had better hold me," he implored, almost giggling. The stone floor didn't look inviting to fall upon he mused, even finding that aspect funny.

Smiling, San-dir nodded, and slipped his arms around Hephaestion's body, holding him closer. 

Hephaestion's breath deepened. Slowly, he closed his eyes and licked his lower lip with a quick swipe, gathering a strayed droplet. San-dir followed the motion, and with a little smirk, he fed Hephaestion some more heavy mead. 

Eager to taste some more of the sweetness, Hephaestion emptied his cup to have it refilled. San-dir laughed with him as Hephaestion swayed from drunkenness, licking his lips some more. A sudden feeling engulfed the blue-eyed beauty. He felt it in his groin as his sex stirred eagerly. Resting his head against San-dir's forehead, he swayed some more, trying to stay in balance. San-dir smiled and kissed his cheek. "You are a sweet man, San-dir," Hephaestion said. "You have been so kind to me."

"It is nothing worth mentioning, Celt. I just wanted to help you recover the best way I knew how."

"By seducing me?" Hephaestion flirted. Their mouths were close and impulsively, Hephaestion leaned closer, kissing him shortly. San-dir smiled and touched his long hair. "Thank you," Hephaestion said.

Then San-Dir let go of him and began performing domestic tasks. Still swaying a little, Hephaestion watched as he constantly arranged the fur wrapped around his naked frame.

"Can we go to bed now? Hephaestion frowned. "I mean - can I go to bed? I'm too drunk to stay upright." 

San-dir smiled and nodded. "That is probably a good idea, Celt."

Hephaestion turned and stumbled a little. Finding San-dir at his side right away didn't really surprise him. "I must be very drunk," he said with a soft laugh. San-dir just held his elbow. "How long ago was it you found me injured?" Hephaestion asked, as he crept back into bed. 

San-dir couldn’t resist and undressed to follow the charming Elf. Then he looked like he was considering the topic carefully. "At least two weeks ago."

"Two weeks?" Hephaestion closed his eyes. Time had flown and he wasn't sure of much anymore.

San-dir put a finger to his lips. "My dear Celt. Do you still not recall what happened to you?"

Hephaestion shook his head. Every time he tried to concentrate and remember there was nothing. His mind was a black void lacking every memory.

"When we found you, you were barely alive and so frozen. There were bodies scattered around you, so your people must have been massacred by Berserkers."

"My people?" Hephaestion frowned in hard thinking, debating inwardly for a few heartbeats, but not even that was helpful. "My people." So, obviously, there were no clues to indicate who he had been and where he had come from. 

San-dir ran his knuckles along his charge's cheek, but otherwise said nothing as he witnessed the struggle to remember in Hephaestion's eyes. 

 

 

*~.:.~*


	8. Chapter 8

*~.:.~* 

 

 

The final combat was over and, for one last time, Attalus went about the battlefield that took place close to where General Hephaestion's delegation was massacred. Right up until his death, Aelwöt denied having taken the Athenian as prisoner, stating that when they left, the entire enemy lay scattered around dead. No one was spared, and that an officer was unaccounted for the Berserker chieftain couldn't care less about. He was doomed anyway.

"Sire! Sire!"

Attalus' attention was caught and he waited patiently as a couple of his men came to him. "Come and have a look."

Approaching a sparse tangle of shrubbery, Attalus stepped around it and all colour left his face in shock. Hephaestion's helmet lay visible before his eyes. 

As the principles of his men gathered around the remains of General Hephaestion's bloodied garments, shocked sobs escaped some of the men. This was what they had all feared. At least, when they attacked for the last time, many still hoped Hephaestion was taken captive, and that they would succeed in freeing the respected officer once the Berserkers had been conquered. Now it would seem that wild animals had dragged away and feasted of his body.

"Arrange for the pyre. This is all we have left of him."

Wondering whether to put Hephaestion's gear on the pyre or not, Attalus decided to put it on a separate one; a small penalty for his own bad conscience. His officers weren't talking to him more than they had to, and he knew it was his own fault, but damned if he would acknowledge his mistake and grovel to them. He was their regent whereas they could be replaced, and yet, he hadn't done so. He understood they doubted his judgement after deliberately endangering the young diplomat. He had to be careful for a while until Hephaestion was forgotten.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

San-dir lay on his side watching Hephaestion's spine. They hadn't slept much as their tribesmen had been busy asking coming to the tent asking for advice or for healing. They would break camp tomorrow and travel south. Everyone was looking forward to moving towards warmer climate. Finally, San-dir had let the tent flap close as a sign he wanted privacy.

He was very satisfied with the way the young Elf had healed. It had now been five weeks since Hephaestion had been picked up from the ground close to freezing and bleeding to death. 

Other nice things had developed rapidly during Hephaestion's fifth week living with the gentle nomad tribe, and San-dir smiled satisfied at his desirable bed-mate’s attention. In this bed, the Elf was beginning to respond to San-dir's touches. This morning, they both felt the strong pull of Eros. Gently, San-dir traced the fading rosy mark with his thumb. Hephaestion hissed at the sudden touch, but said nothing. Encouraged, San-dir let a few finger pads continue lower. Nearing the slender waist, Hephaestion's skin puckered with goose bumps and a sigh escaped his lips. He turned to face San-dir and pressed a kiss to his lips. Quickly, they pressed closer, both knowing they needed this. Warm hands grabbed hard flesh, eliciting small, appreciative moans from the both of them.

"Will you receive me?" Hephaestion asked, not really surprised by how attracted he was to this man. Having seen both women and men seek San-dir’s attention, he quickly discovered that the otherwise beautiful tribeswomen couldn’t arouse him; however this man left him hard and aching for his touch every night. Moving his hand firmly down the herbalist's shaft, he saw San-dir nodding, excitement prominent in his eyes, too. Preparing his lover was an easy task, and Hephaestion realised that he wasn't a virgin at this. He knew what to do as the technique all came back to him as he and San-dir began to make passionate love. 

Later, Hephaestion lay in the dark, thinking about his life and what his past contained. He didn't have much contact with the rest of the people yet, but had been outside several times this week, grateful to break the monotony of lying in bed inactively, and it did his legs good to walk longer distances. On the verge of revealing who he was, San-dir was reluctant about that part and hadn't wanted him to step outside alone, saying there was a hostile feeling concerning his person. However, Hephaestion couldn't make friends with them if they didn't get a chance to know him, and he doubted someone would really hurt him. Tomorrow, they would begin the journey south, and Hephaestion would ask other people of the tribe for more details about the circumstances when he was found after the massacre. 

Breaking camp was done efficiently and practically. Every family had packed beforehand and, owning nothing, Hephaestion had helped San-dir doing his. Mules carried the many tents behind them on stretchers, but the people had to walk all the way by themselves, also loaded with items.

The lovers spent the night in each other's arms by the camp fire. Several people were joined in coupling that night, too, and soft moans were heard scattered around the camp. Hephaestion found that the sounds heightened his pleasure, and once more, he enjoyed San-dir's affectionate embrace. 

A few weeks went by, and they had passed many Bavarian and Gaul enclaves who bore them no ill-will. Hephaestion’s attempts to make friends with the tribe were in vain; San-dir had been right when he said that the people were not happy about his presence in their midst. San-dir found it was time to tell Hephaestion that he was an Elf. The further south they headed, the easier he would become a target.

“What do you mean I am an Elf?” Hephaestion responded in Quenya without even thinking about it, as they walked quietly side by side. 

“You are a different race than humans. As am I. I was living my life amongst Elves in Rivendell many millennia ago.”

Hephaestion stopped and just stared at him. “Millennia? You are jesting! You only look... twenty five... thirty maybe but not older.”

San-dir ignored that and continued, “You are not going to die unless you are killed or wounded beyond healing. By Elbereth, who knows how old you are, Celt... or rather, Elf.” Speaking in Quenya, San-dir proceeded to tell him more about the reality of the world they were living in, and as Hephaestion learned, he was shocked by how his race was treated. If Elves were such a popular ‘commodity’, he could better understand why the tribe didn’t like him. As long as he was amongst them, the tribe would be targets for slave hunters wanting to grab him. San-dir carried on talking about Elves, and Hephaestion was almost dizzy from all the information of who he really was. None of it made sense, as it all seemed like a ridiculous fairytale and he wished San-dir would stop, but his caretaker was ruthless. Hephaestion had to know as much as possible. 

Hephaestion’s eyes darted nervously around now he had this vital information in his possession. He was disappointed that San-dir hadn’t enlightened him right from the start. He chose to ask one of the tribesmen directly. Someone who was willing to give him a straight answer and it came promptly.

"We don't like you," the man replied. "You're an Elf and a soldier, and soldiers come to either kill or rob. It is dangerous to have you living amongst us."

"Why do you think I’m a soldier?" Hephaestion asked, not quite believing his ears. This was another piece of important knowledge that San-dir had kept from him.

"Because some of us were close enough to see you in battle before you were injured. Your men called you 'Hephaestion’. And _this_ proves my other point." The man lifted his hand and brushed Hephaestion’s hair to the side, revealing his pointy ears. “We’ve known all along.”

"You saw me? You were present at the battle? But why?" Hephaestion asked, but he was cut short when a sudden panic caught the entire caravan of nomads. Bohemian outlaws were attacking them hundreds of kilometres from their homelands.

"Elf!" San-dir's voice was heard, and Hephaestion ran to him. "Here! Take this sword. Help us to fight our attackers!"

"You knew about me being a soldier all along, and _still_ kept me in the dark?! You even knew my name was Hephaestion?" the young Athenian asked, angry as well as disappointed.

"Not now, Hephaestion. We're in danger. We'll talk about this later."

Immediately, Hephaestion flung himself into the fight will a skill that stunned him, not to mention those who attacked him. None of them got close enough to harm him. That wasn't the case with the nomads. Most of them lay screaming or dying on the ground, amongst them San-dir. Devastated, Hephaestion understood that his dear caretaker was dead. What it also meant was that now there truly wasn’t anyone to account for who he was. At least he knew his own name now, but he also knew that he had to protect his origin. If these outlaws found out that he was an Elf, he was doomed to be sold as a pleasure slave and die from it within days. That was San-dir’s drastic description of his race’s destiny if he got caught.

When there was no one left to fight, the Bohemians took down Hephaestion easily, but they didn't harm him. Not ignoring his beauty, the men would get a high prize for the slave when he was sold along with the remaining women and children. Their captives would be offered to the first troupe of merchants who crossed their way. Bound against a tree, Hephaestion listened to them. He didn't understand their language but the women did and they shivered in terror at what fate had in store for them all; crying in grief for the loss of their loved ones. Two days passed and the Bohemians did nothing to bury the dead. Soon, the stench became intolerable, and Hephaestion tried to cope with the loss of San-dir's company, friendship, and love. Luckily, he had not considered San-dir a soul mate; otherwise, he would have begun withering.

In the afternoon, a caravan of merchants coming from the west passed by, and was instantly offered the slaves for purchase. 

As the caravan travelled further south, they reached a big city where Hephaestion and the other slaves were going to be sold in the market square. The weakest slaves were gone when they had been purchased along the way, but the strongest remaining had been saved to gain a better profit in the city. Hephaestion had no idea where they were, but the languages crossing his path began to sound more familiar. 

Hephaestion, along with the remaining slaves, barely had a rest before they were shoved towards the marked place the next morning to be lined up as soon as possible. The slave traders now had their turn to sell their merchandise.

Memories had begun to return little by little as he was transported along with the others on the dusty roads towards his destiny. As Hephaestion stood, waiting for the women and children to finish up being sold first, he remembered suddenly very clearly having been present at such an event - just on the spectator's side of the podium. The men were sold afterwards. Seeing how humiliating the whole selling process was to every single slave, he remembered all of this clearly, finding it disgusting, but that was the way these matters were done. He would just have to find a way to detach himself from the experience that the crowd generally seem to find delight participating in. 

Soon Hephaestion was pushed forward to step up and walk in a line with a handful of other young males. He only wore a loincloth of some sorts. There were many eager discussions about the strange whiteness of his skin. The traders offered vivid explanations as to who Hephaestion was, and he thought the charade was ridiculous - but then, he was for sale, and he had better be sold - on any condition. The loincloth was soon removed and he was asked to bend over, resting his hands on his knees giving the eager buyers a view of his privates. He jerked when the auctioneer grabbed one of his buttocks for a firm squeeze. He wanted to kill him with his bare hands, but he would be killed on the spot himself. He had no means to protect himself and hoped he would be sold quickly.

"Let's start bidding on these men at 500 Dinarii, shall we? Turn around and take your place in the line, serf." 

The bidding went on for a while, interrupted when someone wanted a closer look during which Hephaestion stood looking straight ahead. Obviously, he was put last in line. Several commented on his shockingly blue eyes, his beautiful posture, and his privates. Some potential buyers even got closer to pull the foreskin on his cock and fondle his balls; weighing them in their hands with lustful looks. Hephaestion kept staring at nothing, although the entire procedure was the most humiliating experience he'd ever endured. Then the very single thing that wasn’t supposed to happen did.

"What have we here?" A Roman diplomat was ushered to the stand by an alert servant.

"Him, Sir. Look at the ears. He must be an Elf. Unbroken, too. Obviously, these people have no idea what he is," the servant said lowly, but Hephaestion could hear him just the same.

"Hmmm... Looks feisty and agile." The diplomat smiled. This fetching Elf would make a nice gift for his master Vispanius. "Good call. Buy him. It’s practically impossible to find Elves nowadays. The price matters not."

"Yes, Sir," the servant said and began bidding once it finally became Hephaestion's turn. "3,000 Dinarii!"

The excitement rose immediately at the more than generous bid, despite the fact that everybody could see the item offered for sale was extraordinary compared to the common slaves one usually could buy. Therefore, the bidding went on. Those still thinking they had a chance at buying the beautiful male soon ran out of money, and the servant bought Hephaestion for a little over 20,000 Dinarii, which was unheard of around these parts. 

Once the formalities concerning the purchase was finalised, Hephaestion was dragged to a wagon waiting on the outskirts of the market. There, he was thrown a simple chiton, ordered to climb up, and sit with his back to the driver. 

Sadness washed over Hephaestion. He'd been numb to the whole process. Still struggling with his memory loss didn't make any of it easier. 

"You're Greek?" a man asked him.

"I don't think so. I go by the name ‘Celt’," Hephaestion answered, avoiding a straight answer.

"Well, you don't sound like a Celt. You speak in fact Greek, my friend," the other replied with a laugh and slapped him on the thigh. "Whatever the case, you're heading for Rome now."

 _Terrific,_ Hephaestion thought. He wasn't good at keeping his balance on the moving vehicle with his hands tied behind his back. So far, he'd been saved from intimate advances from the slave traders. They had been focused on the women. However, he sensed his luck had run out as hands began to explore his naked, naturally smooth thighs. 

Just as the hand travelled up and he caught the lecherous grin, a man barked, "Get your filthy paws off the Elf. He's a gift."

"Aww - c'mon. Who'll notice?" the man grinned. There was a tense moment where the two men argued, each trying to justify what they were saying.

Hephaestion closed his eyes. It didn't really matter. Where he was going, he'd end up in someone's bed eventually. He wouldn't be asked if he wanted to or not. Point was, obviously, he was purchased as someone else's gift and he would have no say in what happened to him from now on, and that detached him from the events in his otherwise dark, pointless, and soon-to-end life.

The conclusion to the men's argument ended in Hephaestion's favour, and they left him alone for now. 

Later in the day they arrived at a large farmhouse. Hephaestion was shown a place to stay and, exhausted, he went to sleep after a meagre meal. When he woke up, he looked around the place, confused. He slept on a cot, covered in sweet smelling hay. The best bed he'd had in a long while. By now, he knew he was an Elf, and from somewhere in the Greek parameters, not the place San-dir had described so beautifully. However, where, exactly, he had no idea unless he regained his memory. Not that it really mattered where he was from, as he was a slave who could not claim any other home but that of his future owner and master. Soon, they would have to travel further. It was stressful not knowing where he would end, because his present owner was not his permanent one. Hephaestion was going to be passed on at least once more. 

The next morning arrived and it was time to move on. Hephaestion noticed that there were only two other slaves tagged along for the journey. The others were personal guards or servants. _So this is probably it,_ he thought, and could hardly stand the tension any more.

Days later, nothing had changed. Hephaestion was still being transported as the caravan slowly moved further into Italy, soon to approach Tuscany. The only difference was that Hephaestion was the last slave to reach his destination. One early morning robbers attacked the wagons. Hephaestion's bonds were cut and, given a sword, he was then ordered to help. Hephaestion did lash out rather successfully, but soon he was on the outskirts of the action, and nobody paid much attention to 'the slave'. Gradually, Hephaestion realised that the concentration was on the main guards of the diplomat who had bought him for a Roman senator called Vispanius. Hephaestion had no desire to end up as the senator's sex toy, and he seized his chance for escape when the opportunity arose. Instinctively, he fled the scene. In spite of not having anywhere to go, he continued to run. At least he was free.

 

*~.:.~*


	9. Chapter 9

*~.:.~* 

 

 

TOSCANNY, ITALY  
MIDSUMMER

Maximus was away from the house for a short while. He had employed the foreman Graccus after Solstice because he was soon lacking time supervising the increasing number of workers needed on the farm. He knew he should have given the job to Glorfindel, but Glorfindel was extremely popular, and that was one thing a foreman shouldn't be.

Graccus didn't like the Elves. He felt uneasy of their feline features combined with manly strength and thus he desired them. He dared not harass them too obviously, so he tend to pursue them in a more refined manor. Legolas, especially, suffered from Graccus' subtle lecherous behaviour when Maximus wasn't paying attention. 

Glorfindel was tidying up in the office. Drawing maps had been relaxing therapy. Memories and tears had flowed freely, as he reminisced about his former home and the places where his countrymen had lived. He briskly got up and left the room. 

"Laiqualasse!" Legolas got out of bed feeling numb from sleeping in a too hot bed at the wrong hour of the day. He slowly went downstairs. His friends had gathered around the table having tea. The weather was warm and the sun bathed the kitchen in a gorgeous orange glow of the afternoon. Legolas wasn't hungry but he ate some food politely, knowing Glorfindel's eye rested worriedly on his frame. 

Haldir and Alaviv sat close together holding hands whilst looking dreamily into each other's eyes. Legolas felt emotionally sick looking at them. As soon as he thought it polite, he excused himself and went outside. He felt Glorfindel's kind soul grace his heart and he smiled. Then he went to the clusters of trees nearby. He sensed Graccus following him but he shrugged. 

Soon he was engulfed in an ancient routine. He went through a program developed by his father a long time ago. Suddenly, he felt Graccus come running towards him. The man attacked him, trying to hit him on the head with a stone. T attempt had been half-hearted, but enough to send the Elf to the ground on his hands and knees. Quickly, the foreman benefited from Legolas' momentarily disadvantaged position. Graccus pulled out his erection and hissed: 

"Finally I'm getting you where you're meant to be around here, bitch. You're nothing but a whore with a pretty face."

Legolas fell on his side. His head was throbbing slightly and he rapidly realised that Graccus was intent on stealing pleasure from his unwillingly body.

"If you proceed, I will kill you. Think twice if you value your life over my body, human," Legolas snarled back. "We were never bought by our master as spoils of war. We are not pleasure slaves."

Graccus laughed and slapped Legolas so hard that his head snapped back from the impact. He grabbed Legolas' hair. "You're wrong little Elf. Doesn't your master take his pleasure with his pretty slaves every night? The lot of you? Till you scream and bleed like a virgin over and over? Give me some of that virgin blood. I want to taste it."

He slid his hands up Legolas' soft thighs exposing his lower regions. He saw how his victim was still recovering from the blow and he hurriedly tried to gain access to the enticing body. "I've seen how you tease me and don't tell me you don't know how seductive you are, serf." 

Legolas placed a kick in the direction of the man's groin; unfortunately the man foresaw the move and avoided the attack. Nevertheless, it gave Legolas sufficient time to jump to his feet and for the first time be able to fight his opponent on equal terms.

Cursing, Graccus gritted his teeth. The skinny tart was going to get so raped he wished he'd never been born. He launched himself blindly towards where Legolas stood. The Elf stepped sideways and snapped the man's neck in one fluent movement. Instantly, Graccus’ body collapsed bonelessly to the ground. 

Panting but calm, Legolas stared at the foreman lying lifeless on the ground; the smell of warm piss slowly reached his nostrils. He squatted and a vicious smile spread on his handsome face. He grabbed Graccus' own knife from his belt and lowered the edge of the blade to the man’s groin.

When he returned to the farm, Legolas threw the pieces of bloody meat to the bird. Entering the house, he shared one glance with Haldir as he crossed the kitchen before going upstairs. Haldir had quickly followed him and entered the bedroom shortly after. Immediately, he noticed the blood covering Legolas' hands, but mostly he saw the indifference in the young warrior's eyes. He grabbed Legolas' blood-grimed hands.

"I killed him, Haldir," Legolas said curtly.

Haldir frowned and let go of him. "Who?"

"Graccus. Our foreman just tried to force his way with me...so I killed him." Legolas snapped his fingers. "Just like that. It was too easy ending the life of such an imbecile human," he muttered, embracing himself.

Haldir sighed. "Will you ever get over your heartache?" Legolas sighed too. They had had this conversation too many times by now.

"I had better go. Do not look for me." 

Haldir's heart almost stopped beating. So, it had finally come to this? He stepped closer and embraced Legolas who slipped out of his arms quickly.

"I am going. Tell Maximus I killed him. It will be too dangerous for me to stay from now on."

"GLORFINDEL!!!" Haldir screamed and Legolas rushed downstairs only to be grabbed by Glorfindel.

Legolas succeeded in pressing Graccus' bloodstained knife against Glorfindel's throat, "Get. Away. From. Me," he snarled.

Glorfindel let go of the agitated Sinda. Legolas took a few steps backwards. He looked at his friends with a distant, sad expression, then he lifted his arms and pointed at his friends.

"Laiqualasse... please do not do this," Glorfindel pleaded, but quietly allowed the young Mirkwood prince to what he wanted.

Legolas spread his trembling fingers in a fast movement towards them and his inner light glowed. 

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Glorfindel shook his head. It must be afternoon. He didn't recall time passing, but pass it had. He realised Haldir and Alaviv were lying in their beds looking dazed. He rose and shook them.

"Wake up!" Haldir's eyes became alert and, confused, he looked at Alaviv and Glorfindel.

"Laiqualasse put a spell on us. He is gone. Get ready to pursue him. Chances are that he will seek out Tarquini's place for sanctuary. If he reaches Middle-earth thereafter, we will lose him completely so we must hurry. I will notify Maximus."

"Why Tarquini?" Haldir enquired.

"I do not know. It is a feeling I have."

"Who's Tarquini?" Alaviv asked sleepily.

"An old friend of Maximus’. By Elbereth - I wish he were here already. He should be back by tonight... But we cannot wait that long." 

Glorfindel went downstairs. He had to speak with a worker he knew he could trust, one with whom he had only felt honesty when looking into the eyes of the man called Merak. He knew Maximus wouldn't hesitate to come after them the second he returned to the farm. Glorfindel entrusted the illiterate man with a hastily written letter for Maximus. The Elf carefully explained they were heading for Tarquini’s estate where an additional letter would be waiting for the master if he hadn't caught up with them yet. Then he hurried outside.

Quickly, Alaviv had packed what three people would need on the journey. In the meantime, the horses were prepared by the Elves.

Shortly after, Alaviv hurried across the courtyard with the backpacks. Haldir greeted him by hugging him tightly. He grinned and held the young Celt tight, caressing his soft hair. Alaviv closed his eyes and felt Haldir's lips on his again. A soft tongue traced Alaviv's lower lip and he received him for a few moments. Then he cut the kiss and tried to push Haldir away. Haldir wasn't a person you could push about and thus Alaviv stumbled a few steps backwards instead.

Despite the seriousness of the journey ahead, Glorfindel and Haldir laughed at Alaviv's expense. Haldir grabbed Alaviv's hand and helped him on his feet again. Alaviv wasn't embarrassed. He marvelled at Haldir's strength.

"Whenever you are ready, friends. We need all the time we can spare."

Haldir and Alaviv shared one last kiss before parting to mount their horses and stopping in the middle of the courtyard. The workers had gathered to bid them farewell, not really sure why the Elves were leaving without the permission of their master. Legolas had always been trouble. Why would anyone want the unpredictable, hot-tempered dangerous Elf back?

Glorfindel slowly approached the entrusted worker Merak one final time. "As soon as Master arrives, he must have the letter. To him it is vital. Do not form your own opinion on this matter. Do you understand?"

Fond of the Elf, as they all were of Glorfindel, Merak nodded. "I won't let you down, Elf."

Glorfindel nodded back; nevertheless, he put a spell on their weak minds to make sure they all agreed with Merak.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Shortly after nightfall, Maximus returned to his home. He could hardly wait to finally be back in his beloved's arms. The purpose of his travel had been, to some extent, fruitless. He had tried to negotiate with some neighbours into dividing their lands more equally. Some had agreed, others not. That was their loss. Next season, those who had agreed would benefit tremendously and more crops would be harvested.

Now all he needed was a nice dinner and then he would drown in smooth white arms and the unique scent that was Glorfindel. He grew hard just at the thought of being taken by Glorfindel. The Elf knew just the way he liked it. His musings came to an abrupt stop as Merak came to greet him in the courtyard and grabbing the harness.

He realised that he didn't sense either Elf. Nothing. Shocked and worried, he demanded an answer from the terrified worker who produced Glorfindel's letter immediately.

Seeing his lover's exceptionally beautiful handwriting on the front of the letter calmed him down somewhat. Nevertheless, he feared the contents inside. Jumping off the horse, he went to his office and called for Merak to follow.

The news of Graccus' kill by Legolas' hand, the Elf's escape, and the pursuing by the others heading for Tarquini's house was too much. Maximus groaned and rubbed his eyes. Dinner magically appeared in the form of a delicious stew. He glanced at the food and allowed himself the ten minutes to eat it. He was exhausted and sitting down now was dangerous. He felt sleep creeping up on him, and he didn't have time now though his body screamed for rest. He had given all he had to come home quickly. Now he had to travel again. Impossible as it was, he had to try nevertheless. There was nothing else for him to do. His beloved three Elves made his life worth living. Without them, he would be empty.

This house meant nothing if they weren't there. He knew he had no choice. He would go after them even if it meant losing his property. Like Glorfindel, he had to trust Merak, and Glorfindel found him trustworthy which was good enough for him. 

"I'm asking you to take the huge responsibility of managing my property, Merak," he told the man who nodded. "You will only have yourself to turn to. I don't know when I will be back. I don't know if I will ever be back. This is my guideline to you; that this farm is your home until I return. So use it. Make it work."

Humble and proud, Merak nodded once more. This he could handle. He even knew whom to hire for competent help. 

Maximus had taken the first step and knew he had to take the next one as well. With that in mind, he asked Merak to follow him. He showed the man where the finances were hidden. Opening the case, he noticed Glorfindel had taken some of the money. Maximus also took some... a lot actually. He had a premonition he would need it very soon.

"Spend it wisely. This is all there is."

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Several days later.

 

Legolas had felt them all morning as they slowly approached Tarquini's place. He had hidden in the stables, and to his advantage, the sleepy stable boys hadn't noticed the extra horse and the Elf resting beside it. A little spell had seen to it. 

He sensed how tired his loved ones also were, but mostly, he was astonished by the fact that he felt Maximus was with them. He had to escape very soon. If he felt them, they felt him as well. 

He slowly let his hand stroke the flank of the horse till it rested on the reins. Gradually, he coaxed the horse towards the stable door. Nobody was awake so he could concentrate on looking out of the small crack of the opened door undisturbed; he saw nothing. They were not approaching from his vantage point. However, he did sense they were too close by now and he had to make a decision. Quickly, he mounted the horse and galloped away only to realise they were only 300 yards from him. He cursed loudly and hoped he would be able to escape.

They changed their course immediately and went after him, yelling in frustration because Legolas' horse was rested and theirs were tired. Somehow, Haldir's horse managed to dig deep and accelerated into a magnificent sprint giving Haldir enough edge to reach out and grab the reins of Legolas' horse and make them stop. 

The two friends stared into each other's eyes for a long time.

"This is where it ends, my friend," Haldir said. Legolas panted and felt adrenalin course through his body. He spun his head around when he suddenly felt Maximus rip him off the saddle and he lay stunned on the ground as Maximus straddled him.

"You... TIRESOME LITTLE SHIT, Legolas!" Maximus yelled before exhaustion and dread made him hit the silent Elf several times across the face till blood spilled. Horrified, Maximus looked at him. He saw how the enraged Sinda returned his gaze, but still the Elf said nothing or fought back. Then the general cried and shaky hands cupped the burning cheeks, kissed the split lips tenderly and remorsefully. "I thought I had lost you."

Glorfindel, Alaviv, and Haldir just watched their master's maltreatment. They all felt too shocked to say or think anything. They were numb from fatigue, having ridden all night.

They all returned to Tarquini's place where Legolas was to be tied down like a common slave. He fought hard against those who bravely restrained him and tested Tarquini's hospitality. Maximus reassured his friend they would leave in the afternoon as soon as they had rested, and would he please ignore his disobedient slave?

Maximus was so taken aback. He had no idea what to do with the Elf. Legolas defending them against evil people and this situation were two different things. Actually, Legolas deserved to be punished by death, but Maximus needed Legolas' version of the matter. The Elf hadn't spoken to anyone about it, and until he did the general would have to believe Legolas had acted upon momentary insanity due to his grief.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

After they had rested, Maximus came to Legolas. He squatted in front of the King of Mirkwood. "Why did you kill Graccus?"

Legolas returned his gaze and held Maximus' eyes, momentarily trapped. He didn't try to put a spell on the Spaniard. But he wanted to get free and return to his travel towards Middle-earth. Therefore, whatever made Maximus set him free would work for him.

Maximus grabbed Legolas' chin lovingly. "Why, my dear?"

The endearment had Legolas focus his gaze somewhere else but then he met Maximus' eyes again. "He was constantly lusting after me when you were not looking. He tried to rape me that day."

Maximus nodded and let go of him. He walked about in the room and returned to squat. He looked at the Elf's split lip and then the intense stare, which he returned without blinking.

"Say it again." He let Legolas eyes tell the truth when the Elf repeated his story of the events that lead him to kill Graccus in self-defence.

Then he cut him loose and helped him to stand up. Legolas rubbed his sore wrists and ankles before he wrapped his arms around his master. Maximus traced the Elf's forehead with his lips.

"I'm sorry I reacted so brutally," he mumbled, inhaling Legolas' scent. "You worried me, deeply, making me believe I was losing all of you." 

Legolas just nodded, remaining in Maximus' arms before Maximus pulled the Elf along to his guest room. He bid a surprised Glorfindel to leave them be. Thereafter they sat on the bed beside each other. 

"Killing Graccus, I can understand. He was never meant to be kind. But had I known he was after you, I would have flogged him, and then replaced him. Why didn't you ever mention this?"

Legolas lifted his legs and hugged his naked knees. He hated when he was supposed to open up and just explain all the pain he fought to keep away every second of his life. But he did open up and explained nevertheless.

"Fine... maybe I needed an excuse to kill someone. Maybe I led the man on purpose. Maybe I was about to murder every single person on the farm... you included."

He got up and went to stand by the window looking out onto the lavish garden. Then he added softly, "Would you not say that was reason enough?" He looked back at Maximus' expressionless face.

"Tell me one thing. Legolas..." Maximus rose to come and stand behind the slender Sinda. He engulfed his frame in his arms and Legolas let his head fall back and rest on his master's hard chest.

"What attracts you so much that you have to go back to Middle-earth?"

"Death," Legolas replied quietly, "I will meet my family in the afterlife on Elven soil."

Maximus didn't really feel the blonde was telling the truth. "Legolas, if you so desperately want to die, why did you stop here? This gave us the easiest opportunity to catch you. I think you wanted to be caught. I will not tolerate how you pursue death. I believe that what you really long for is to be rescued."

Legolas looked at him like he was crazy. "Go ahead and believe. I am not stopping you." He returned his gaze towards the garden. "Are you going to take me or not?" he asked in a low voice, but Maximus could feel the resentment underneath it.

"Absolutely. You need to release the tension," he said, feeling how he grew harder at the sheer thought of penetrating a thrashing and enraged Legolas.

"Would you not fear I would enjoy killing you, Master"?

"Not really," Maximus said, stroking his beard. He whistled softly and gradually the door opened revealing Glorfindel resting against the doorframe. 

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Reaching a village in the middle of the night, Hephaestion cautiously approached a farm bathed in vague moonlight. Along with him were some fugitive Rôhirrim from Middle-earth whom he had joined a few days earlier.

There was light in one of the barns and, gathering courage, Hephaestion was the one knocking on the door. They all had to earn a living somehow and, hopefully, this place could use extra hands. The voices inside became quiet and Hephaestion gasped as the door was swiftly opened and before he could even react and lift his sword, someone yanked him inside.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Legolas squatted in the corner; he was eyeballing everyone at close range. He didn't try to flee, as Maximus did not intend to punish him for acting in self-defence. Legolas avoided any contact at all and even Haldir couldn't make him eat. Maximus and Glorfindel were not happy about the prospect of Legolas fading as he had earlier.

Glorfindel decided to approach Maximus on the matter. "We are not the ones who can make him happy. It seems as though we are preventing the course of his life. You have to let him go. Let him go, Master," he pleaded, falling to his knees. He repressed all his pride and kissed Maximus' feet. Maximus couldn't stand seeing the gorgeous creature behaving like this, and demanded him to stop.

"Stand on your feet, lover," he said and Glorfindel complied immediately. The power of his pained eyes hit Maximus and he had to look away, but he knew the answer. He never wanted to lose Legolas, but his life would be easier. Nevertheless, he didn't want life to be easy if it meant losing Legolas, which made the feeling plainer for him. 

Glorfindel looked tired to the core, and Maximus realised that the Elf wanted the young Sinda out of his life because it was too painful to watch him wither, even if he from time to time seemed fine. 

Haldir and Alaviv were much too quiet, too. They were still a joy to watch, but their enthusiastic love they kept extremely private. Glorfindel and Maximus had no idea if the two young lovers had shared each other yet because Haldir had cleverly shut them out of his love life from the second he and Alaviv fell in love.

However, the young couple hadn't shared each other yet. They gave each other kinds of pleasure when they felt they were alone. The sex, they had agreed, would wait until they had their own place because it mattered deeply to them. Haldir didn't want to leave Maximus and Glorfindel, but he strongly needed privacy. Perhaps Maximus would allow them to build a house close to the farm and still be part of running the place. 

But firstly, the matter with Legolas had to be resolved.

Legolas was deeply stressed, but knowing everybody wanted him to get better only made him feel like he was suffocating from the sympathy. The young Mirkwood King closed his eyes. He was very hungry, but he was indifferent to his own needs. What he wanted was to be free of his emotional imprisonment and attachment to his former lovers. He had to gather the will to let go if ever Maximus decided he could. He eyed Maximus as he neared him, then closed them as Maximus grabbed his hands and asked him to stand up. Legolas did as he was told, and Maximus kissed his forehead.

"My heart breaks to say this, but you are free to go now. I will not track you down; only know that we would be relieved if you nevertheless chose to stay."

Legolas nodded. He went past Maximus, incapable of looking back or he might regret it should he witness Maximus' saddened eyes. He decided against saying farewell to the Elves and Alaviv, for he had enough grief on his shoulders to last one Elf's lifetime.

He went to the stables and swiftly saddled his horse before leaning against the warm creature. He had to stop crying but he couldn't. Eventually he swung himself into the saddle and, seconds later, he galloped away, leaving Tarquini's farm behind him. The more distance he put between them and himself, the lesser the pain felt and, finally, he breathed freely and calmness replaced everything else and his eyes were dry.

 

*~.:.~*

 

Exhausted in both body and soul, Maximus travelled back to the farm early the next morning, accompanied by his beloved Glorfindel, Haldir, and Alaviv.

The first night back on the farm, it was obvious how the people reacted to Legolas being missing. Mostly relief was the response, but also confusion; not many truly understood the complexity of the Elves. 

Maximus sat at his desk slowly rubbing his temples. Mentally he was reaching his limits. If he didn't have the love and support of Glorfindel, he would have feared for his own sanity. Glorfindel came to him and Maximus sighed contently as the blonde positioned himself on his lap. Maximus lifted Glorfindel and put him on the desk. Glorfindel smiled as Maximus leaned closer and nibbled at the Vanya's lower lip. He traced the lashes lining the magnificent almond shaped eyes.

"Let's go upstairs."

"No, Maximus - the young couple are already sleeping there."

Maximus smiled. "Since when has that been an issue?"

"Since Alaviv became Haldir's love."

Maximus nodded, still kissing the curve of Glorfindel's face. The Elf spread his thighs, welcoming the erection rubbing against his crotch.

"They need their own place or Haldir will disappear one day, taking Alaviv with him," the blonde said as he closed his eyes.

Maximus gently rubbed Glorfindel's left nipple through the woollen tunic. He nodded curtly and stepped away from the Elf's warm body. He went upstairs and sat on the Master bed for a while, watching how the young lovers lay entwined. Alaviv's beautiful naked backside was completely exposed as he wrapped his body over Haldir, who lay on his back with one white hand cupping a lovely tanned buttock. Alaviv's left thigh muscles twitched and he stretched his leg, before lifting it higher. He began rubbing himself against Haldir's leg underneath him.

Maximus got up. The sight was much too tempting and he went downstairs to the study. Glorfindel had called for Merak who showed up sleepily but happy to see his masters back in charge.

Glorfindel had asked him about how the farm had fared in their absence. Merak explained the details about some money he had used and decisions he had made due to a few internal disputes. Then he urged them to come outside. There was something he wanted to show them. 

One of the barns, mostly used during winter, had light shining through the windows. Merak explained quietly that he was protecting runaway slaves.

"You have fugitives?" Maximus asked. The foreman nodded and motioned for them to follow. Glorfindel and Maximus went with him. The double gates were parted and all three of them stepped inside. The hushed talk seized immediately, and Maximus took Merak's lamp to have a better look and so he stepped closer to the gathering of five individuals.

"Well, well. Who have we here?" Maximus asked as the light illuminated the cautious faces.

"Hephaestion??!" Glorfindel exclaimed.

"You know me?" Hephaestion cried in relief.

"Oh, ai. I never forgot you, little Elf," Glorfindel responded warmly to the confused officer.

 

*~.:.~*


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thôr-ned-Tortho means something like Tamer of the Eagle in Sindarin.

*~.:.~* 

 

 

The cerulean blue gaze that met Glorfindel’s was apprehensive and alert, ready to attack should he be met by force. The Elf had a sword in his hand, and by the look of it, the weapon hadn't left his side since Merak had invited him to stay. 

"I mean you no harm, my friend. What happened to you since you’re back with us?" Glorfindel asked.

However, the Elf didn't seem to understand the sentiment, and shook his head, staring fascinated at the creature before his eyes.

"He asks for work," Merak explained, helpfully.

"Who was his master? Will we be in trouble to offer our hospitality to him?" Maximus asked.

Hephaestion understood them all, all though, he felt the dark-haired man was the one in charge. Speaking in Latin he explained, "I was sold to Vispanius of Rome...as a..." He couldn't continue and Maximus comprehended immediately, remembering Vispanius’ greed for Elves.

"I see. But you escaped?"

"Some of his men bought me, although I doubt that Vispanius knows he owned me. My caravan was attacked on the way to Rome, and I escaped during the skirmishes."

"Where are you from?"

"I don't know. I am told I was a soldier from Greece once but lost my memory in a battle."

"What is your name?" Maximus asked, now very interested.

"Cel... Hephaestion. My name is Hephaestion." The soldier darted a nervous look at the tall Elf who has recognised him.

"Hephaestus. Greek... Athenian maybe," Maximus mused giving Glorfindel a quick glance. 

The blonde watched the officer intently. Obviously, he’d suffered a complete memory loss in whatever battle the Macedonian army had fought in since they came to the farm for provision; however, that would have been months ago. “My dear Hephaestion. When you came here in spring, you were a Macedonian officer. I do not know your history, but obviously, you were in charge of logistics. Does that ring any bells?”

Hephaestion stared at Glorfindel, but nothing seemed to jog his memory, and he clearly had to compose himself as a sudden wave of emotions washed over his features. “I cannot remember much. Just... general preferences and languages. I know a lot of languages.”

“You seemed very intelligent. I do wish for you that you will regain all that you lost.”

“So do I,” Hephaestion responded.

Glorfindel found the young soldier needed time to collect himself after acquiring the new information and, of course, he could earn his keep on the farm. Merak and Maximus seemed to like the man. Obviously, they found him trustworthy and, as such, Glorfindel detected no harm in him other than a lost soul trying to figure out who he was. 

Maximus stood for a while and studied the beauty of the newcomer until he realised how uncomfortable Hephaestion became by his scrutiny. "You look like royalty. Not someone who can actually work around a farm. Come with me. You intrigue me." Then, after acknowledging their stay, he kindly bid the Rohirrim a pleasant night, and went after the Elves who were clutching hands, curious to know what was going on. The soft Quenya spoken words revealed a stressful conversation between this Macedonian Elf, Hephaestion, and Glorfindel.

Inside Maximus’ office, Hephaestion cautiously stepped closer. He didn't know what the man meant by calling him royal, but he felt he had no choice but to comply. 

"I'm Maximus Meridius. I own this farm and most of the fields surrounding it. I have very close Elven friends such as Glorfindel here staying with me at the house and, as you can see, my servants are especially devoted to me. I sense we should be careful with you. I'm not sure why. You'll have to work hard until your memory is re-established and you know where you really belong and are better equipped to return to your homeland. Till then, fear not. You are welcome here. Come, Hephaestion."

Glancing back at the tall blonde Elf, Hephaestion followed his new master.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Astonished, Hephaestion was allowed rest in the master bed where he looked forward to falling asleep - oddly not feeling he might be surprised by unwanted company. Finding out that Glorfindel remembered him was such a huge relief. Perhaps he had subconsciously travelled back along a route his memory remembered but he had forgotten. Otherwise, it would be too fantastic that he happened to return to the exact farm where people remembered him. Hopefully, that knowledge could be the foundation to getting his memory back; however, he quickly knew that Glorfindel hadn’t really spoken with him when he came to the farm for supplies for the Macedonian army. Some other Elf no longer staying on the farm had. Well, wasn’t that just typical? Hephaestion spent a lot of time thinking about the aspect that the soldier even San-dir had admitted he had been was with a royal army. Macedonian? But he thought he was an Elf from Middle-earth. Exhausted from thinking, Hephaestion fell asleep. 

Back in the study, Maximus smiled at Glorfindel when he returned. "You don't trust him much?" 

Glorfindel sat heavily in Maximus' chair. "It is not that I do not trust him. He and Legolas had a little verbal test of ‘who has the biggest’...when he was here, which I believe Hephaestion won, so he can handle himself. But that was then. Now... I do not even think he trusts himself. I sense he hides matters unsaid because he needs to protect himself when all he has is us, and whatever he has experienced since he lost his memory in the first place. He is lucky I happened to step outside that day the army came to collect the supplies.”

"Yes, he is. He’s exceptionally comely, don't you think?" Maximus teased. He’d seen the desire in Glorfindel’s eyes when the new Elf arranged his long wavy, auburn hair to cover his ears. It looked like such a subtle gesture that the Elf probably wasn’t aware of doing it, and it seemed like he had had to cover his Elven identity for so long that he did it automatically.

"Ai," Glorfindel concurred adding a sigh, "that he is." Then he pulled off his tunic and slid his hands down his well-toned body. His motions stopped when they reached his cock. Maximus' eyes lifted gradually back to Glorfindel's face. The strong warrior tilted his head to one side, the curtain swaying as the mass of blond silk poured over his shoulder. 

As Maximus came to him to pull him close, he also shed his clothes. Soon, they were embracing each other, kissing deeply and breathing shallowly. Maximus felt Glorfindel's finger slide inside his body. Grunting appreciatively, he opened his mind, letting in his lover's delicious wishes for the love act this quiet night.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

In the morning, Hephaestion came downstairs. The others were already seated, and he looked surprised at seeing yet another of the Elven race present sitting at the large kitchen table. 

A young human sat next to him, seemingly very attached to the Elf who openly returned the affection. Their love was subtle and it was obvious to Hephaestion that everyone present, besides the owner of the farm and Glorfindel, were drawing warmth and love from the couple. For a change, Hephaestion felt safe in a room full of men.

Hephaestion smiled at Glorfindel when the Elf got up and greeted him. They shared a few pleasantries and before the young Athenian sat down to have breakfast, the others were introduced to him. Feeling eyes on him, Hephaestion realised that everyone was able to see the wounds on his wrists from having been tied up with coarse rope. They would soon be insignificant, but were a visible reminder of how he had been treated for so many weeks. In addition, he had lost a bit of weight since food had been difficult to find until he caught up with the Rohirrim who had been sold from a Tuscan slave market. Their master had been cruel to everybody, letting them live a life in chains night and day. It was only when a fire broke out and they were let loose to help extinguish it that they saw their chance and ran away, feeling no need to save their prison. Like Hephaestion, Fortuna smiled upon them and let them escape unnoticed.

Maximus and his friends entertained Hephaestion with tales of their past. He, in turn, told them all he knew from the moment he thought he had died in Germania, his time spent with San-dir, and what happened later on. Glorfindel and Haldir nodded. These circumstances had also happened to them. That seemed to be the fate of many in times of war. 

Hephaestion asked the Elves, "Will you go into battle? I would come along and fight, of course."

"We do not know if there is anything left of Middle-earth and our beautiful Realms. The situation is very dark, as no news has crossed our path since we were forced away from our fair lands. However, we will try and gather some intelligence to get a better view of the situation. Hopefully, it is better than we fear. Maximus is a former Roman general. He has connections.” Glorfindel smiled at his lover.

“I will send a dispatch soon. I believe the Emperor is not in control of the situation abroad. I have his confidence, and if you have the faith of your king, perhaps we can work something out?” Maximus asked Hephaestion, who just looked at him with worry.

“I hope so, too. Perhaps someone in the army can enlighten me even further about my identity. Maybe even my family if I still have one,” Hephaestion mused. “In any case, it would be of great relief to me if a letter could reach the Macedonian king that I’m still alive and at his service.”

The kitchen became quiet as everybody sat, wrapped in their own thoughts, hoping for better times for all.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Legolas was awake for most of the night. He was careful to not be caught. Maximus had not given him any token to prove he had been freed from slavery. No weapons, nothing. Just a split lip, which was as good as healed.

Sitting in a tree in a dark forest a day’s ride from Tarquini’s place, Legolas tried to keep away the memories of those his heart had grown to love, but failed. They had a deep place inside him and, although he realised that though they loved him, they could not satisfy his hunger for a soul mate. Only sex, which wasn’t what he needed.

He sighed, remembering how Glorfindel had thrust into his mouth while Maximus had pounded his insides, holding his arms as he 'tried to pull free'. 

He put his hands onto his throbbing member at the memory of the last sexual encounter he had had with Maximus and Glorfindel. Forcefully, the sensations and pictures rushed through him.

"Dangerous, She-Devil," Maximus had growled and grabbed a handful of silky hair to pull his head backwards. Legolas' mouth was full of Glorfindel's essence and Maximus sucked his mouth dry. Legolas laughed aloud, feeling Maximus' body tighten as Glorfindel came around and entered the general to finish off his orgasm. 

Maximus let go of Legolas, who fell onto his back and spread his thighs, letting Maximus see his clenching opening. Maximus grunted delightedly as he watched Legolas put two fingers inside himself. The Elf stroked his cock fast and efficiently; the blonde and his master kept their eyes linked as sensations drifted between them.

"Give me your load, Legolas," Maximus had demanded, his eyes on fire. Legolas stood up and splashed his come on Maximus' face before grabbing his hair. With a furious shout, he rubbed his face against Maximus' come-dripping one, smearing the substance even further. Then he fell on his knees; who was the most eager to lick come off the other was difficult to say. 

Maximus reached out to grab Legolas, but instead the Elf pinned him on top of Glorfindel's body on the floor.

Legolas impaled himself on his master, working his body fluently, forcing Maximus towards his undoing. The Spaniard's body shuddered in pleasurable spasms, coming hard as he held onto Legolas' flexing thighs. Then Legolas bent and wrapped his long hair around Maximus' throat, instantly making his two lovers silent.

"Do you fear me now, lover?" Legolas asked in a tone that was not inviting either Glorfindel or Maximus to doubt him. They did not have to answer him, and Legolas untied the general with a hard kiss to his lips, his eyes never leaving those of his master. Maximus showed no fear yet, and Legolas loosened him before getting up and falling apart in the corner he had come to consider his.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Not realising he had finally dozed off - for he needed the sleep desperately - Legolas suddenly heard voices, but by then it was too late. When he became alert, he had an arrow pointing at him. Slowly, he slid down from the thick branch where he had been resting. He cursed himself for not paying attention, but lately his senses seemed to betray him at the most inconvenient of times. He was surrounded and slowly turned his head to count his enemies. As soon as his sight seemed to return to its usual sharp self, he realised, to his astonishment, that his captors were all Elves.

A brown haired Elf stepped forward and asked the obvious question, "Who are you, Elf, clad in human garments?" 

Legolas frowned and regarded them suspiciously. His hair was not braided, leaving no trace to his identity.

"I am a Woodland Elf. Who are you, and how far from Middle-earth is this?" According to Glorfindel’s maps he had a rough idea, but maybe these people, had the answer.

"We are far from home, beautiful one. Join us, as we have plenty of food. Only how will you pay us? You seem to be without funds of any kind," the brown haired Elf said with a smile, although his face betrayed no indication as to whether he meant it or was only jesting.

"I would rather be left alone, if you could only tell me how to get back to Middle-earth..."

The brown haired Elf lifted his hands. "Say no more. I can tell you have been experiencing a bit too much of the hairy Italians willingly or not."

"Try 'stay out of my affairs', Elf," Legolas snarled.

The Elves backed away at the unexpected outburst and realised they were not dealing with a meek soul. 

"You are escaped slaves as I?" Legolas asked after a pause when they had all come to the decision to stay calm.

"Nay, we are Gypsies, crossing any border at our leisure. We have no connection to any realm of the old Middle-earth. None to claim our homeland like you."

"Like me...?" Legolas asked carefully.

"I am Nathraîn. You may remember my name... Princeling?"

Legolas did indeed, and his pale face turned a shade hotter, but still he had to pretend he did not know to what the Elf was referring.

"I do not know what you are referring to... Nathraîn. I am... Thôr-ned-Tortho," he said, the name being the first to come to mind, which was not even that far from the truth.

"Whatever you say. I shall ask no further. Come with us; you must be hungry." 

Legolas was more inclined to escape, but he would not get very far being as hungry as Nathraîn had truly guessed.

Suddenly a shriek was heard from above their heads, and Legolas' eagle revealed itself at the very opportune moment. 

"Well, well..." Nathraîn said, unable to conceal his surprise. "It would seem you told the truth. Perhaps this magnificent animal can help us in our fight against the Empire. We seek to free all Elves in Roman captivity. There are more around here than meets the eye, because we are usually kept out of sight. This Empire is doomed."

"You think the Roman Empire is doomed?"

"Ai. An Emperor who believes in controlling so many differences in culture, beliefs and warfare skills is likely to lose the battle... and we will certainly do our very best to rid the Romans of their cost free labourers. Our kinsmen."

Legolas didn’t respond to his propaganda speech. He just had the bird rest on his shoulder and let the other Elves lead the way. He may not have known how to get back to Mirkwood, but he knew enough to realise they were heading in the direction of Maximus' farm. The notion caused all kinds of worry to arise in him. He knew they would try to kill Maximus in particular. They had not said it, but Legolas could feel it. 

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Hephaestion stood looking out of the window in the small hall. His friends from Rohan appeared to get better as he was himself. They had suffered but seemed content at the moment to just fit in on the farm. In addition, the patron Maximus hadn’t voiced minding the extra mouths to feed, although there wasn’t really any need for more workers this time of year. 

In the kitchen, Alaviv and Glorfindel prepared dinner. They glanced through the open door from time to time, watching the Macedonian.

Alaviv thought that Elves were the sexiest visions possible. Haldir could make him forget everything around him just by looking at him. He had gotten used to hearing Maximus and Glorfindel having sex in the bed next to him and Haldir, and he longed to have sex with the amazing creature that was the former warrior. Having seen the newcomer called Hephaestion, though, Alaviv had to admit this Elf also was a stunning sight, and more clearly, he was not conscious about his own beauty. The master called him royalty, so Alaviv fantasised that Hephaestion was an Elven prince like Legolas, only he had no recollection of the kingdom he was to inherit. It was very romantic. 

"He is beautiful; would you not agree?" Glorfindel asked with a smirk. 

Alaviv laughed, "You caught me."

Entering the kitchen, Hephaestion smiled and embraced a flustered Alaviv from behind, kissing his cheek noisily. He had been living in this house for three days; now he had loosened up to the others remarkably fast, and was becoming quite fond of the cheerful young man, as had everybody else. He was not trying to make Haldir jealous but, at the same time, it was interesting to study how the Elf's jaws tightened. However, Hephaestion would have to wind down his affection or he might too quickly become unpopular, considering he had not been living here long. Moreover, he had to remember he had nowhere else to go if he was thrown out. So far, he felt good in the huge amount of love emanating from Master Maximus' house.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Legolas had successfully talked Nathraîn and his gypsy pack from attacking innocent Romans in their path. Before he was married, Legolas had sex with Nathraîn - a former employee of the royal castle of Mirkwood. Not that he had had much contact with him, but enough to remember his name. He considered it payment for agreeing not to attack the innocent, but it was no secret he had enjoyed the coupling back then.

Skilfully, Legolas led the gypsies in the direction of Maximus' farm. There, he would get help from his friends to deal with these stray Elves. He had journeyed this road too many times by now. Feeling so restless and weary, he knew it would be hard going back to the farm. The very reason for leaving would be evident: Two couples deeply in love simply didn’t make any room for Legolas who loved them unconditionally. Nevertheless, in that moment, he would rather suffer the loneliness living amongst them than loneliness in solitude.

"Why are you so concerned about the humans?" Nathraîn asked for the umpteenth time, sensing Legolas was hiding information.

"Because, I see no justice in killing to do good," Legolas argued hotly. "Killing one hundred Romans will not bring back my family." He turned to look at Nathraîn, and then continued, "Besides, who can tell if it was actually Romans in the first place who slaughtered them? Being so vindictive, it could have been you, for all I know."

Nathraîn stopped his horse and stared at Legolas in shock.

Legolas turned his horse to face Nathraîn and asked directly, "Did you murder my father and three daughters? Because they were innocent in the war that came."

Nathraîn felt the blood drain from his face and Legolas' eyes became huge, realising how close to the truth he suddenly was. His mind was racing. If he was travelling with the murderers of the Mirkwood Royal family... he closed his eyes a few seconds. The concept was unfathomable. Nathraîn seemed to get a grip of himself, and they spoke no more of it. Legolas felt calm, cool and revenge was burning inside him like the core of a fire.

A few days later, early in the morning, the group neared Maximus' farm. Descending the hill towards the property, Legolas said nonchalantly, "Let us ask these good people if they can spare some provisions for us."

Nathraîn rolled his eyes. "You can do that. I have no intention of sinking that low."

"Fine. I believe I prefer it this way." Legolas dismounted and shared a look with Nathraîn before crossing the courtyard. His horse made subtle noises on the worn stones covering the yard. No sounds were heard from the inhabitants. Everyone was asleep.

Legolas left his horse and it began walking to the stable of its own accord. Quietly, the Elf let himself into the house. He should have sensed danger, but he assumed the sensation of another Elf present was Glorfindel or Haldir and let down his guard, completely missing the warning signals when Hephaestion grabbed his head from behind. Legolas became limp in the foreign arms, luring the aggressor into believing he had surrendered. Surely, the attacker seemed to relax a few seconds and gave Legolas the time needed to bolt out of his grasp. Spinning, he faced his attacker and launched at him immediately. 

They fought hard, heading towards the kitchen; a few chairs flew into the corners. With a heaving chest, Legolas finally managed to pin his equally panting opponent to the floor, straddling him. The sunrise was in progress, lighting the room increasingly, revealing the face attached to the body under him. They just gasped as recognition hit them both.

"By Elbereth..." Legolas whispered. His body shook from the strenuous fight. The sight of the Elf's sun highlighted auburn hair and blue eyes didn't help him catch his breath.

With a laboured breath, Hephaestion asked, "Let me guess...Legolas?"

Legolas nodded with a small smile. He couldn’t hide the joy he actually felt by seeing this Elf again. "Hephaestion... We meet once more, and you are just as annoying as you were the last time we ‘wrestled’”

"On the contrary, I truly believe _you_ are the essence of displeasure.”

Legolas felt that the Elf had to be there for a reason, but he would have to ask later. He touched Hephaestion's cheek, and saw the Elf turned his head to absorb the caress. Gradually, Legolas leaned forwards until he rested his body against Hephaestion's. They lay thus for several precious moments.

Apprehensively, Hephaestion waited for what was going to happen now. Why Legolas had returned. Also, from a more practical point of view, he was much stronger than Hephaestion, who had spent all his strength fighting with him. 

Then the blonde Elf spoke, using as few words as possible, "Outside, there are Elven gypsies. Scum, who executed the Royal family of Mirkwood. My family. There are nine of them."

"Are you asking me to help you kill them?" Hephaestion asked, surprised. Things shifted swiftly at the moment, as his body responded to all kinds of feelings, adrenaline shaken desire, surprise and a healthy touch of fear.

"Ai, that I am. Can you?"

"We had better get help from upstairs. I am still weak from enslavement and malnutrition."

Legolas looked at him with fascination. Enslavement? That answered a few questions but also opened new ones. His lips were inches from Hephaestion's.

Sensing how strongly Legolas responded with desire for him, too, Hephaestion found himself replying, "Afterwards, my love." It was happening so fast. The creature Legolas, whom he felt he should detest, was invading all his senses and he responded to him in kind, feeling his cock harden with sweet arousal. He hadn’t even responded this readily toward San-dir.

"Afterwards," Legolas repeatedly, slowly gliding off the tempting body.

Hephaestion let the notorious Woodland Elf pull him to his feet. Together, they went upstairs, finding four naked males in deep slumber. However, when Hephaestion looked in the direction of Alaviv's bed, he noticed Haldir was already sitting up. 

"Laiqualasse?"

Legolas turned, hearing Glorfindel's beloved voice. The younger Elf rushed into the arms of the astonished Vanya. They kissed longingly.

"What troubles travel with you, dear friend?" Glorfindel asked, a little out of breath.

Legolas nodded, acknowledging Maximus as well, who lay with his fingers interlocked behind his head.

Soon, they were all gathered around Maximus' bed.

"I encountered Elven gypsies a few days' travel from here. I discovered that they were eager to kill Romans and then I feared they would hurt you. You are all the very reason I want to stay alive. I could not tolerate massacre just for the sake of it. And worse..." Legolas paused and looked at Haldir. "One of the gypsies has more or less admitted they murdered my family."

"The Elf said so?"

"It was more of what he did not say," Legolas said, "But they are waiting in the courtyard believing I am gathering provisions. We had better confront them as soon as possible before they lose their patience."

Quickly, the four males dressed and, armed, they all went downstairs, ready for the skirmish.

Nathraîn finally saw movement coming towards them. Soon, the gypsies realised that Legolas wasn't returning alone. Hopefully, the princeling hadn't upset these people. Then again, what did they care? They could not keep their promise to Legolas if the stupid farmers decided to defend their property. Belatedly, the gypsies sensed more than one Elf. They were to face other Elves as well, as Legolas had betrayed them and knew of this farm. The gypsies brought out their weapons. Nathraîn counted four Elves and two humans with Legolas. They were not out numbered yet.

"The people on this farm insisted on meeting my comrades in distress," Legolas said smoothly. 

Nathraîn nodded curtly, his senses on highest alert.

"Calm down, you have nothing to fear," Legolas said with an indifferent voice and cold hateful eyes. “Only death.”

Nathraîn drew his sword and pointed at Legolas. "I believe you not!"

"Admit it was you!" Legolas shouted, pointing at him with his finger. "Say you killed my babies - my beautiful little princesses and your King!"

"Fine! It makes no difference to me since I am going to kill you as well. Ai! I admit it. We murdered your treacherous family. All of them - even the little slut of a wife you married. Found her in bed with someone who obviously wasn't you, Thôr-ned-Tortho - or might I call you King Legolas now?" the Elf spat with hateful eyes.

Legolas yelled in rage at the evil confession. He pulled out the sword hidden on his back. "Time to die for your atrocious sins!" 

He attacked by launching at Nathraîn's side, but the gypsy averted skilfully. The fight had begun. All present were engaged in the riot; however, it was plainly clear that the gypsy Elves were less agile than the fighting trained household, including the humans participating.

Nathraîn had considered his and the other gypsies' combat abilities adequately but as his Elven companions fell one by one, and Legolas and his friends still were standing, he found himself paralysed watching them approach.

"By Elbereth... who are you?" he asked. Obliging the Elf a last wish, they presented themselves.

"Haldir, March Warden of Lothlórien."

"Glorfindel, Seneschal, House of Imladris."

"The Balrog Slayer..." Nathraîn mumbled overwhelmed.

"Maximus Decimus Meridius, former general of the Roman Imperial Armies."

Alaviv and Hephaestion chose to keep quiet, but Nathraîn saw the pride in the pretty males' eyes in belonging to this outstanding group of warriors.

Lastly, Nathraîn looked at Legolas and dropped his sword. He now understood why they had had no chance in the beginning. With such powerful friends, they had been doomed from the start. He fell on his knees and looked at the enraged Sinda Elf.

"And I am Legolas, King of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil Oropherion, father of Sia, Tinwen, and Fenniela and I will have my vengeance TRAITOR!!" Legolas yelled, raising his sword with both hands above his head and swinging downwards, decapitating Nathraîn's head from his body. Legolas kept yelling, looking at the corpse. Blood poured out of the hideous wound, spreading on the sparse cobblestones. The Woodland Elf sunk to his knees and rocked backwards into Hephaestion, who had stepped forward to stand right behind him. Twisting the sword out of Legolas' hands, he held him tightly. 

The farm workers were alarmed by the sounds of swords clashing. They rushed out of their houses and approached when the fighting stilled.

Hephaestion's heart bled for Legolas' terrible loss. Not knowing who he was, having no one to call family, he could sympathise deeply. Legolas trembled uncontrollably in Hephaestion's arms; in the end, Glorfindel picked him up and carried him into the house to put him to bed. 

Upstairs, they sat on the bed for a while. 

"Did the Roman gentleman Sinner's mad prophecy ever come to life?" Maximus asked.

Legolas tried to smile through the violent emotions that had taken control over his body. He shivered like a Mallorn leaf in an autumn breeze.

Joining them, Hephaestion asked worriedly, "What is wrong with you?"

Legolas shrugged, so Glorfindel answered, "I hope he is finally finding closure; that he can finally put his demons to rest."

Hephaestion nodded. He knew of the story, as Haldir had been kind enough to fill him in of all the details earlier in the week. Legolas sought Hephaestion's eyes and reached out for him.

"Call for me if you need my help," Glorfindel said, and after a long pause studying the couple, he added, "...and Laiqualasse. Let him help you."

Legolas nodded. "Ai - worry not. I might even enjoy it," he said, almost exhausting himself at delivering the final bravado. The two Elves lay down on the bed. Hephaestion put his leg over Legolas' thigh and hooked it firmly, pressing Legolas closer still who needed loving arms wrapped around his sanity. 

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that Hephaestion felt Legolas was sleeping deep enough for him to comfortably leave the mentally drained Elf. He looked at the impossibly beautiful face, puzzled by the fact Elves slept with their eyes open. He didn’t sleep like that and wondered why. Perhaps he had been taught not to in order to protect himself from humans. From slavery.

Going downstairs, he smiled as he caught Haldir kissing his young lover rather passionately.

"Mind me not, my friends," Hephaestion grinned, tired from snoozing all day and snuggling close to a warm and sensual being. Legolas had surfaced periodically, remembering, and releasing the terror trapped inside. It had been draining for Hephaestion, too, but he was glad to have been there for him.

Haldir put his cheek upon Alaviv's head. The young man closed his eyes contentedly. "What are your intentions now that Legolas is back in the house? You seem very infatuated as does he." Turning his head, Haldir nuzzled his face in Alaviv's soft hair, and then he bent to receive a loving kiss. 

Surprised, Hephaestion raised his eyebrows in amusement. "My intentions? I am just interested in getting to know him better. He tickles my curiosity."

Haldir laughed and finished kissing Alaviv. Then he said, "In other words, you just want to bed him."

Hephaestion looked down. He hadn't thought that far, but the way Legolas and he had shifted from being on extremely bad terms with each other to being drawn to one another with a deep passionate urge had been most unexpected to the both of them. Hephaestion confessed the obvious. "That, too. But first, I want to kiss him."

"He is a fabulous kisser," Haldir said. 

Hephaestion was taken aback by that answer, since he had just admitted his own interest in the Elf, and noticed the little frown on Alaviv's brow, too. "Not very diplomatically put in front of your young lover, now was it?" he then said.

"I apologise. It was before you, my love," Haldir explained sheepishly to Alaviv.

"I see," Alaviv said, hoping the subject would be dropped thereafter. In his world, the two princes Hephaestion and Legolas belonged to each other.

Hephaestion went to Maximus' office. The general sat writing at his desk. "How is he?" Maximus asked. He was very optimistic about Hephaestion and Legolas' interest for each other.

"He is finally in a deep sleep. I may go to sleep again soon. Waking up constantly was torture."

"Yes - I can imagine," Maximus said, then he continued, "Hephaestion, are you capable of preparing a pyre so we can get rid of the corpses?"

"I think so, yes. I will see to that," Hephaestion said.

"No, I have changed my mind," Maximus said with a smile. "Go to sleep, Hephaestion. I will have Glorfindel arrange it."

The brunet turned graciously; he glanced out of the window and drew closer. "Look, Maximus!" he exclaimed.

Maximus got up and went to him. Outside, a huge eagle was feasting on Nathraîn's corpse, ripping lumps of meat from the body with its sharp beak. "Legolas' eagle," Maximus said.

"He has an eagle?" Hephaestion asked quietly.

"Yes. That one out there is _his_ eagle. The bird has protected him all the time I have known Legolas, and it chose our fearless Elf all by itself. I witnessed it happen."

"I believe you...fascinating," Hephaestion whispered.

Then he turned away from the window and climbed up the stairs. He crawled into bed and snuggled close to Legolas who didn't even stir in his peaceful sleep. Dreams of running through a long forgotten forest holding Legolas’ hand slowly teased Hephaestion and before he knew it, faces he’d forgotten began to emerge, telling him everything was going to get better. His memory was finally repaired and would be coming back to him.

 

 

*~.:.~*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Romans invented concrete. It was then forgotten through time to be 'reinvented' in modern times.

*~.:.~* 

 

 

In the morning, Hephaestion sat up with a loud gasp. Legolas flailed next to him as he quickly sat up, too. The two Elves looked at each other’s messy hair with alarmed expressions on their faces. Simultaneously, they started to laugh.

Then Hephaestion looked a little strangely and, slowly, he put a hand to his head. “It’s coming back...”

“Your memory?”

“Ai. I had the oddest dreams of people I have known and now I try to remember what was then and what is now. Oh, Legolas. Everything is very overwhelming after so many months in oblivion.” Agitated, Hephaestion coughed a few times. 

Legolas touched his hand. “Seems like you have lived two lives?”

“In a way I have. I need to speak to Maximus, urgently,” Hephaestion said. It could not wait another moment. 

Quickly, they dressed and went to find Maximus, who was in the kitchen breaking his fast with Glorfindel.

“Good morning friends,” Glorfindel said.

Hephaestion’s eyes shone with excitement. “Something glorious has happened. I remember everything again.”

Both Glorfindel and Maximus slowly got up. Warmly the general approached the young Athenian and shook his hand. “This is good news.”

Hephaestion smiled. “Indeed it is.”

“How did it happen?”

“When I woke up, everything had come back. I remember who I am, where I come from... every incident before and after I came back here and so on.”

“You must be feeling very emotional,” Glorfindel said, but to his surprise, Hephaestion shook his head.

“I am feeling fine, actually. It is more a sense of finally being myself again.” Then Hephaestion smiled a little peevishly. “Well, a little bit emotional. That, too.”

“Tell us your story when Haldir and Alaviv join us,” Maximus encouraged him. Legolas and Hephaestion sat at the table having breakfast with the others, and when Haldir and Alaviv came down, he accounted for his past.

“I was born in Imladris. I’m the only son of my parents. We fled to Greece when I was about sixty years old. My mother died in an accident soon after our arrival, and my father followed her to the Halls of Mandos shortly after. I was brought up by the merchant...who...” Hephaestion hesitated all of a sudden, because he remembered that he didn’t know why exactly they fled back then, but he imagined it was due to the war. There were small gaps in his memory because no one ever told him, and he only realised when he grew up that he lacked some basic knowledge of his past. “Well, the merchant who had hosted us when we arrived was kind enough to raise me. Then his son took over and eventually he adopted me a few years ago. As you can imagine, trying to pretend being a human when I already had a thorough military career by then, but to humans of course I just looked like a youth stepping out of a boys’ gymnasium.”

“You still do,” Maximus teased, and Hephaestion just shrugged with a smile.

“I suppose I do. I have no idea what I look like nowadays.”

“Elven,” Legolas assured him, then he asked, “what then?” 

“I came to Macedonia. My adopted father - and at the same time best friend - Amyntor, had made his career as a general in the army there, and I wanted to follow his example. With my more than thorough training, it was easy for me, and I advanced rapidly and was given tasks normally entrusted to much more experienced men. However, the thing was - I _was_ that experienced and after a year, to every one’s surprise I was promoted general; commander of the Calvary as well as in charge of logistics.”

Legolas and Hephaestion shared a glance, but said nothing. The sheer memory of their first confrontation earlier that year sent waves of desire through their system, which was picked up by the others, and small appreciative sighs were heard around the table.

“We went to war against the Berserkers last year, and yours was one of the farms chosen to deliver supplies for us.” Maximus nodded, and Hephaestion looked at Legolas. “When our army fought the Berserkers we did well, but at some point I had to try and negotiate with the leader. My regent lusted after me, yet still he wanted me to meet the enemy with a small delegation. We were slaughtered and from that point I lost my memory.” Hephaestion stopped talking. The memories were exhausting him as they flooded his mind. 

“The regent lusted after you?” Glorfindel asked.

“Ai. He even wanted to make me his consort.”

“And you were not interested?” Legolas asked, disgusted by the sheer thought of somebody else’s hands on _his_ Hephaestion.

“Nay. I was afraid he’d find out I was an Elf. Also, I did not want to lay with someone I despised.”

“Why would he deliberately send you to a sure death if he wanted to marry you?” Glorfindel asked.

Hephaestion shrugged his shoulders. “I couldn’t say. I’m sure he thought it was a good plan at the time.”

“Nobody knew you were an Elf, you say?” Haldir asked.

“Ai. All my life. Ever since we came to Greece I’ve had to hide my ears, hide my potential, and everything that made me think, feel, and act differently. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have to be careful. Well, only vaguely before we fled from Middle-earth.”

Legolas took his hand. “I’m glad you are here.”

Hephaestion smiled back. “So am I.” Soon, the two Elves were lost looking into each other’s eyes, taking comfort in their newfound love.

 

*~.:.~*

 

The next day, Hephaestion found Legolas sitting on the stone fence behind the farm. The blonde Elf was facing the woods and crying quietly. Sensing Hephaestion, he turned slightly.

"’Tis no intrusion. Come! Sit by me." 

Hephaestion smiled and sat beside Legolas on the fence. "What are you thinking of?"

"My homeland. My people," the Sinda answered.

"Will you return? Rule them?" 

Legolas looked away. "Some day... maybe I will be brave enough to face Mirkwood and the expectations. However, my people do not even know I am alive. I will possibly be shunned if I return. I would shun me if I returned. Only I am wiser than they are. They would regard me as a ghost. You know, superstition thrives best in times of war and hopelessness."

Hephaestion put his arm around Legolas’ shoulder and squeezed him. Legolas smiled.

"You are a fierce warrior. I am glad to be your friend and not foe." 

Smiling at those words, Legolas' dimples grew deeper, and Hephaestion felt love well up inside. 

"I have not much left to fight for," the blonde one said, tossing his head towards the house. He shrugged. "They seem to be at peace and I..."

"You need someone who cares for your heart, Legolas, as do I," Hephaestion added. 

Legolas' eyes filled with more tears that spilled, immediately tracing misty stripes across his high cheekbones. 

"Ai...my heart is empty. All my loved ones are gone." His hand lifted automatically to touch the tiny tokens in his hair. 

Hephaestion hopped to the ground and went to stand between Legolas' thighs. 

"I cannot offer much," Legolas crossed his legs behind Hephaestion and pulled him flush against his crotch. "Could you be that someone? If I decide for someone to mend my heart it will be an arrangement for life, or I might as well lie down and die."

Looking into Legolas' eyes, Hephaestion found there was no doubt. He would gladly share his life with Legolas. Life wouldn’t be the same without him. Hephaestion pulled the Elf off the wall. Together they walked for a while, holding hands in unanimous silence. Inside the woods, they slowed down, savouring what had been building up between them since they first met. Nearing a large tree, Hephaestion steered them towards it. Legolas let himself be pressed against the trunk, loving how expectant he felt. Leaning closer, Hephaestion kissed the corner of Legolas' mouth. His breath quickened and lightly he moulded his body against the hot flesh poking his thigh. He inhaled deeply the intoxicating scent of Legolas' skin and the golden hair felt like silk between his fingers. Legolas' eyes were closed and Hephaestion sensed how he still resisted him, hesitating to let go of the last desperate bond that kept his terror in check.

"Let go," Hephaestion whispered, and with one last sigh Legolas just did that. Their mouths met in a hard kiss.

"Do you want me?" Legolas asked, feeling some of his emotional burdens leaving him.

"Ai, I need you at once. We belong together, so consider your search over."

"Ai, Hephaestion. It is over. No more," Legolas answered. "Come let us find a more suitable place."

They moved on until they found a mossy clearing further into the woods. Once they had undressed under the aroused gaze they cast one another, they lay side by side on the grass, their minds at peace but set on each other. 

Legolas bent over Hephaestion and a slow, thorough exploration of the Elf’s skin began. Letting his hands roam over the hard planes of the warm, slender body underneath him, Legolas noted that the physical evidence of the suffering Hephaestion had endured was long gone. Hephaestion seemed so serious in this moment, Legolas could almost feel his emotions and thoughts travel to him despite not yet having shared his body.

"I once knew someone like you. He cared for me after I lost my memory. He was an Elf, although I think he hid this easily from me due to my memory loss. In the final days I knew him, he revealed to me of the Roman’s conquest of Middle-earth. I was filled with such helplessness. I cannot express how it feels to have regained the power of knowledge. I have often thought of how little people outside of Middle-earth know about us. We have certainly stuck to ourselves, haven’t we?” Hephaestion asked.

"Ai, and especially the Elves. I cannot speak for the Westron realms. They blend much easier with the Imperialistic nations. No one expected anything like this invasion to happen to us. It has been going on for so many decades. No one could have foreseen the reaction of our people... our kind," Legolas said quietly, thinking about Nathraîn and his cruel deeds to the royal family. Quickly he blocked the horrific memories. They only served to make him yearn for revenge and it wouldn't bring his family back to life. He had to move forward, and Hephaestion would be good for him.

Legolas kissed his throat. The man seemed relaxed, but when Legolas let his tongue travel higher to suckle on his earlobe, Hephaestion squirmed. Soon, the tip of his ear was engulfed in a hot wet mouth. Never had Hephaestion known how that part of him could make his body respond with such arousal. His cock twitched and Legolas put his hand loosely around it.

Arching into the loose sheath, Hephaestion smiled expectantly when Legolas squeezed tighter.

Filled with joy, the Sinda Elf moved his oral assaults down Hephaestion's throat once more. "You are magnificent," he said dreamily. 

"You are magical," Hephaestion replied.

"Hardly," Legolas mumbled. 

"You tamed an eagle didn't you?"

"He goes his own ways."

"He ate your enemy," Hephaestion stated matter of fact. 

Letting go of his cock, Legolas looked into Hephaestion's shining eyes. "He did?"

The brunet nodded, stroking Legolas' shoulder. A glint of satisfaction flashed in his lover's eyes.

"Good," Legolas said, returning his concentration on the silky flesh in front of him. Cerulean eyes watched his every move as fingers mapped his skin and tongue lathed a trail for them to follow. 

Finally, Legolas' tongue reached the darker shade of Hephaestion's cock. The eager column rose to meet its fit inside the blonde's cavity.

Feeling blessed, Hephaestion sighed, cupped in moist heat. Subtly, he began to thrust, and Legolas liked having his attention. 

Increasing the speed, the lovers were soon moaning loudly, being both the giver and the taker. Shortly after, Hephaestion gushed his semen. The many spurts trickled down Legolas' face, and wiping the creamy essence into his hand, Legolas then prepared his lover for penetration.

"Have you been breached before?" Legolas asked, and a humble shake of the head confirmed his intuition.

"Only giving. How did you know?" Hephaestion asked.

"You do not act experienced in male coupling," said Legolas, and gently pushed a digit past the tight opening. "And it excites me," he added. 

"You think so?” Hephaestion smirked. Well, he had bedded a handful of men, but revealing that now would be bad timing. “It excites me as well," Hephaestion just replied, but then an intimate touch made him forget about the finger as a steady sweet sensation tickled, feeling like a mid-orgasm that promised more power, more pleasure and fulfilment. _That_ he had never felt. Kissing him, Legolas put his hands around his hair to keep it from their faces, responding passionately.

"Once we have shared each other’s bodies, we will share our thoughts."

"I am aware if it, Legolas. Glorfindel and Maximus explained this to me," Hephaestion replied. That hadn’t happened with San-dir, but Hephaestion assumed the Elf had not wanted it so.

"How convenient,” Legolas grinned adding another finger followed a short while later by a third. “Ready?" Legolas finally asked.

"I think so," the shaky reply came and not hesitating a moment too long, the fingers were gently replaced by the hard length sliding inside.

"Ooh..." Hephaestion moaned deeply. Having something so hard and long slide inside him, stretching his inner walls so pleasurably, made his own cock twitch harder and stretch along his abs as blood rapidly filled it for the second time.

Concentrating, they made love; however, Hephaestion felt something was not right. Legolas seemed restrained, and so he said, "Your passions are not usually spent so tamely, are they?" he stated.

"I have had little cause to rein in my desires in the past," Legolas agreed, and flashes of wild sex shared with three gorgeous males in the house grazed his mind for a second.

"Release them to please us both," said Hephaestion.

Not replying, Legolas sped up the tempo immediately and elicited surprised yelps from Hephaestion.

Legolas pulled out and commanded him on his hands and knees. Hephaestion complied and was soon impaled again. The thrusts he received now had him scream in shocked pleasure as Legolas again and again brushed his tingling insides with his cock.

"By every deity listening..." Hephaestion gasped and cried, "I had no idea ...I had no idea!"

"Now you do. Take it," Legolas hissed.

"Uh! It’s so wonderful!" Hephaestion cried out. "Take me. I’m so close. Legolas, harder, please!"

Holding his narrow hips, Legolas rammed the thrashing brunet under him, moaning in uncontrolled passion. Whatever he had thought he felt when coupling with other people, was completely different to this. Taking Hephaestion’s body was spectacular. The other Elf completely submitting to him was such a token of trust and Legolas' soul rejoiced along with his lover’s... HIS lover. Nearing his climax, Legolas laughed aloud with joy. HIS lover and no one else's. _Mine!_

Slowing down a fraction, he savoured the feeling, realising there was no pompous ceremony, no well chosen words but the simple fact that he and Hephaestion were now connected in body and mind.

_How fare you?_

_I am floating... but please spend yourself, my love. I cannot take the pleasure any longer,_ Hephaestion answered.

Afterwards, the two lovers lay close; Hephaestion on top of Legolas. Saying nothing and thinking nothing, but were filled with quiet tranquillity as they observed the shadows changing as the day passed by.

 

*~.:.~*

 

Maximus sat in his office. Studying tallies with Glorfindel, they had calculated the expenses for rebuilding the smallest of the barns. It would serve as the new bedroom for Haldir and Alaviv. 

Amongst the Rôhirrim there was a draftsman, Aedemer, and the man had approached Maximus offering his services to help realise the plans. The Rôhan ‘camp’ were all willing to help, he assured, feeling they hadn't contributed much since their arrival. Maximus assured him the most important job had been for them to recover from the cruelties they had suffered during their enslavement. 

To Aedemer's profound surprise, he was introduced to a substance he had never seen before: concrete, a wonderful material that completely changed his time frame. He thought it would take a month to rebuild the barn, but now he estimated it would hardly take more than a couple of weeks. 

This he told Maximus, who was glad to provide this pure Roman invention to someone who could process the gift and turn it into something constructive. 

Maximus had a feeling that it would take ages for Middle-earth to rise again when Rome was done conquering her - if there was anything left to conquer at all. Occasionally, he listened to gossip from his neighbours telling that the lands were bewitched; nothing grew back once it was burned and the people fell ill. However, as soon as he got word from Rome he would be more the wiser.

He decided it was time to pay Aedemer a visit. Knocking quietly on his door one evening, Maximus was asked to enter. He greeted the little group of people who had made a functional home out of the old barn. Maximus had told the Rôhirrim to do what they wanted with it. He wanted to raise a new barn in a few months to accommodate the harvest. 

"Greetings people. Aedemer, I need a word with you," he said. The man got on his feet and followed the general. They went for a walk.

"I have heard rumours and I think I cannot trust them. But I feel you could enlighten me if I asked you directly."

Aedemer stopped and Maximus felt his unease right away, so there was something to dig for after all.

They continued. "I see..." Aedemer hesitated. “Even within Middle-earth there have always been periods in time when some of us wanted power more than others. It's always been like that. That part is not so much different from yours, Master."

Maximus nodded. "Yes, but the variety of people is very much so. I am still a bit astounded that I believe the Elves are not in their twenties but hundreds and thousands of years old. Still seems fantastic come to think about it," he smiled.

Smiling back, Aedemer hoped the conversation was over. He hated to talk about Rôhan and Middle-earth; it cut into his heart. 

“How much damage has been done to your homelands?”

"Most Eorling villages have been destroyed. We have no king anymore. The bloodline is extinct. I fear the Emperor will kill every Man, Elf and Dwarf until the lands are burned to the ground."

None would be spared. Maximus needed to think about this for a while. This was not what he had hoped for at all. 

As soon as he was back in the house, Maximus went in search of Glorfindel. There were many things which he demanded an explanation of. He knew he was just one man and wouldn't make more of a difference than a drop of water in the ocean, but still his warrior heart was on fire. He would need this information to make his conclusions when the intelligence was returned to him.

 

*~.:.~* 

 

Glorfindel stood with half lidded eyes listening to Maximus' angry words.

"Why should I have told you? What do you think you can accomplish?" Glorfindel asked.

"I don't think anything! I don't know anything! How could you not have told me?"

"I was your slave, Maximus! Why should I think you would care? And besides..." Glorfindel moved towards him. "Our situation was not any different than it has been for centuries. A year in Middle-earth, or even years do not move as fast as they do here, my friend." Glorfindel put his hand on his lover's shoulder. The man was shaking and Glorfindel wisely removed his hand again.

"You _will_ not travel to Middle-earth, Maximus. There is nothing you can do except be slain by your own greedy countrymen. The soldiers there are just grabbing in greed. They heed not the instructions they once were give and your Emperor cares not. It is unfortunate we were run over by your army. You took down so many of our important strategists, and Aedemer's story only confirms that Middle-earth is just a playground to humans."

"Gods..." Maximus moaned aloud hearing this. "How many of you were present that day you were enslaved?"

"We were all there..." Glorfindel said. "The finest and wisest of all Middle-earth had gathered to plan a magnificent resistance. Finally freeing ourselves after years of fighting back - then..." Glorfindel laughed, dryly, "...the Romans just marched in and..." he shook his head in disgust. Looking puzzled for a bit, he added, "Now I know we were betrayed by the gypsies. We have lived secluded for millennia; it just strikes me why you chose to attack us now. Why not two hundred years ago?"

Maximus nodded silently. It was a matter of when the time was ripe, and no Emperor of Rome had been curious enough to invade Middle-earth earlier.

 

 

 

*~.:.~*


	12. Chapter 12

*~.:.~* 

 

 

Work on Haldir and Alaviv's new home as well as the new barn had begun. Every available hand joined in to make the progress conclude as quickly as possible. Soon, autumn was on their doorstep and they wouldn't have time for construction once it was time to harvest the crops. 

Alaviv was sitting on top of the roof looking down on Haldir who smiled back, loving the view of his lover's hair tumbling on his back. 

"How are you doing, Alaviv?"

"Just fine, Haldir!" he shouted back. 

Sitting in front of him, Aedemer helped put sharp cut hay along the plane of one side of the roof. There were two other thatchers helping, and it was clear to the man that Alaviv's job was probably not the most handsome part of the roof. However, one look at Haldir's face, and he knew the Elf would find it to be the most important parts of the thatching.

The Rôhirrim were integrating with the household much better as they recovered strength during the hot Tuscan summer.

Constructing the barns didn't take long to complete, and a feast was arranged to celebrate their conclusion. Afterwards, the couple would officially move in.

The courtyard was decorated with branches, flowers, and ribbons. The neighbours were invited, too, and Tuscan delicacies were lined up on large wooden slabs with wine ad libitum.

Both Haldir and Alaviv got pleasantly drunk and when they became a little too loving for public display, Glorfindel and Legolas got up and excused themselves before helping the happy couple towards their home. 

 

*~.:.~*

 

TUSCANY, AUGUST

A month later, news finally arrived from Rome, and everyone attended Maximus’ office as he presented the situation: “Since the high council was enslaved, the governing of Middle-earth has run out of control. Resources are stripped bare, while Romans as well as Greeks rage or burn villages and new settlements are shooting up fast. The aboriginals of Middle-earth are tolerated but most end as servants or slaves for the Imperial citizens in Middle-earth or outside.”

“How can you still keep these Elves slaves?” Hephaestion had to question boldly.

Maximus laughed and the Elves smiled. “Haven’t you noticed by now, my friend? It is _I_ who am enslaved by you lot.”

Hephaestion sucked in both lips and received a playful flick on the head by Legolas. 

“Maximus may have petty papers stating we are his slaves, but...”

“I get the picture,” Hephaestion replied, turning his head he gazed at Legolas who promptly petted the ‘injure’.

“Want me to braid your hair?” Legolas asked, suddenly.

“Legolas?” Maximus coughed.

“My apologies,” Legolas said, but still began braiding Hephaestion’s wavy hair back, revealing his ears.

“Not the ears,” Hephaestion whispered, the caution still laying under the surface to not revealing his identity. Both Elves shut up promptly when Haldir threw a piece of lembas at them. 

“Legolas...” Maximus’ expression had changed. “Mirkwood is burned to the ground. The spiders are extinct.”

Legolas nodded once. He had the feeling this had been the ultimate destiny of his kingdom all along. “And the people?”

“Scattered or still living underground.”

“So, I’m king of nothing?”

“You’re still king of the refugees and those brave enough to have stayed behind. Your homes can be rebuilt, yes? The underworld of your society is still intact. Mirkwood is the only place the Empire has not had any financial interest in.”

“But they had to burn it down, nevertheless?”

“Your people did it. Not the Empire.”

“By Elbereth,” Haldir and Glorfindel whispered, shocked.

“Well, I am not going to miss the spiders, I must confess,” Legolas said.

“I remember my Nana telling me about the spiders of Mirkwood,” Hephaestion offered.

“They were huge, hairy, and vicious. I’ve killed hundreds of the creatures,” Legolas explained.

“Your mother was Sinda?” Maximus asked Hephaestion.

“Ai, and my Ada Noldo. We lived on the outskirts of Imladris until we had to flee to Athens.”

“What was your Elvish name, Hephaestion?” Glorfindel asked.

Hephaestion smiled. “Hîst-Ethir Mirdanion.”

None of the other Elves knew a Mirdan of any of the Realms. Mixed marriages even amongst Elves were rare.

Haldir received the news that Lothlórien’s beautiful talan societies were gone as well. This disturbed the young Elf tremendously that he, too, had nothing to return to. Alaviv put his arms around him. “We can live wherever we want. As long as we’re together, Haldir.”

Haldir nodded. “Ai. That is true.”

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “People? Would it be possible for you to focus on this?” The younger distraught couples returned their attention to the matters at hand.

“Apparently, Imladris is still intact and a residence for many Roman settlers.” Maximus stopped talking.

“What?” Glorfindel asked, feeling something important was still to be said.

Hesitating, Maximus continued, “I’ve been offered a position as governor of Imladris. Rome took my initiative to improve the governing of the colonies of Middle-earth.”

The Elves paled; all gasped in shock. 

“By Elbereth,” Glorfindel moaned in distress. He turned away and had to gather himself a few moments before he was even able to think straight.

“Will you?” Hephaestion asked.

“I have only had this information since this morning my friend,” Maximus said kindly. 

Glorfindel went and sat on Maximus’ lap. They looked into each other’s eyes for a while. “I want you to come with me, Glorfindel. I want to go. Make certain things are right.”

“I do not think circumstances will make anything right. It took us millennia to build our societies, and hardly ten years for you to destroy them.”

“I know.” Maximus said.

“I will come,” Glorfindel said.

“Haldir?” 

The Silvan shook his head. “Nay. I want to stay here with Alaviv.” Alaviv smiled in relief, agreeing in silence.

At first, Legolas frowned in surprise, but then he remembered. Haldir was more than comfortable around humans, and living on the farm with Alaviv had saved his sanity.

“What will you do, Laiqualasse?” Glorfindel asked.

Legolas laughed a little. “What will _I_ do? Well, my people have destroyed their kingdom, so there is hardly any point in returning.”

Glorfindel could have argued the opposite, but he was not Legolas and he was not the one to preach responsibility. Legolas had almost withered and, as such, it would serve no purpose to tell him what to do. Realms were gone. What had been once was not possible to recreate and was now just a beautiful dream. Glorfindel had lived for so long. His time would come if that was what fate had in store for him. Returning to Middle-earth was his highest wish and doing so in the company of his beloved Maximus only heightened that sensation. He was more than ready.

“Hephaestion? What will you do?” Legolas asked, frustrated.

Hephaestion was torn. He longed for his home in Macedonia, but his love for Legolas meant the most to him. “I sincerely wish to go back to Macedonia.”

“Then I will go with you,” Legolas replied.

With astonishment, the six males looked at each other, realising that they were going to break up. That was the last thing they had envisioned since they became a unit, thrown together under the most unexpected circumstances.

 

*~.:.~*

 

MACEDONIA, PELLA

WINTER

“Master.” A hand urgently shook Amyntor’s shoulder, rousing him from sleep.

The general was told he had visitors and, quickly, he pulled on a chiton and a cloak, and went with the servant to meet the guests.

A candle was lifted to the faces of the strangers invading his home in the middle of the night. A blonde Elf stood in front of him, his entire being magnificent and proud. 

“How may I help you?” Amyntor asked wearily.

“We seek your protection. May we speak in private?” 

Amyntor frowned. “What you have to say is that sensitive?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” the other person in the Elf’s company added.

Amyntor recognized that voice. “By Zeus...!” Staring in disbelief at the carefully cloaked male behind the Elf, Amyntor quickly dismissed the servant and let the Elves into his office. “We were told you were dead!” Amyntor said, relief washing over him as he embraced Hephaestion.

After introducing Legolas, Hephaestion began explaining to Amyntor the sad and tragic circumstances of his journey in the Roman Empire.

Amyntor listened carefully as he slowly overcame the shock of having Hephaestion back alive and perfectly well. “I can’t even imagine how to advise you now. King Philippos has recovered and is back on the throne. Attalus is not in charge of anything anymore after he had supplied himself heftily from the treasury.”

“He is gone?”

“Yes. He fled and none expect he will return if he wants to stay alive.”

“Well, I cannot say that I’m not disappointed being robbed the opportunity to sink my sword into his guts,” Hephaestion said with much venom.

“Or cut his lecherous manhood off bit by bit,” Legolas muttered under his breath, knowing all about how the former regent pursued his beloved.

“Excuse me?” Amyntor asked.

“Nothing, Amyntor,” Hephaestion quickly said, sending Legolas a warning glance. _He does not need to know of this_.

Legolas shrugged and instead sent Hephaestion images of their latest coupling.

Feeling the untimely stirring of his manhood, Hephaestion cleared his throat. “Amyntor, I want to return to the army so that I may continue my military career, and Legolas has expressed his wishes to join me for a continued military career. I will need you to come along and confirm my identity.”

“Well, of course. I’m sure it’s only a formality. Everyone will be very pleased to realise you survived. Such stories you have to share. It’s quite astounding.”

“He is an Elf,” Legolas said, dryly, like that explained everything, which in a sense it did. A human would probably not have survived what Hephaestion had had to endure.

“Quite,” Amyntor said. “Are you hungry?”

“Amyntor, my friend,” Hephaestion went and embraced him. “Go back to bed. I know my way around this house. We can feed ourselves.”

“Very well then. See you in the morning,” Amyntor said and went back to bed.

The two beautiful lovers sat across from each other at the large kitchen plank, holding hands and eating while they made plans for their long future together. With Maximus governing Middle-earth, soon there would be new politics established and enslaving Elves would be punishable. It did not mean changes could be measured instantly, of course, but it was a start.

 

*~.:.~*

 

Hephaestion returned to the Macedonian army, advancing once more to Commander of the Calvary. Legolas declined any commanding positions. The Mirkwood assassin was perfectly happy looking after Hephaestion during campaigns. 

Haldir and Alaviv stayed at the farm in Tuscany, tilling the land and continuing to reap profitable harvests.

Glorfindel and Maximus ruled the remaining colonies in Middle-earth, and gained control of the situation to do their bit in decreasing the hunt for Elven slaves. To his astonishment, Maximus realised that he aged insignificantly throughout the years, and Glorfindel was grateful to keep his love by his side that much longer.

The six friends never saw each other again, but each never forgot the impact of the passion, friendship, and heartache they shared.

 

End of tale March 15th 2008.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


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